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<span>Spoiler: <span class="bbCodeSpoiler-button-title">Marco</span></span>
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</div><br/>Marco had been up for nearly the entire night smoking and worrying, worrying and smoking. It wasn’t as though he was a generally anxious man, but he had the occasional night consumed with something akin to panic. Oddly enough, often times on those sleepless nights he didn’t relive the horrors of his life before the Tiger’s Den; he worried about roaming black holes. An odd thing to worry about, no? It was an entirely irrational and unnecessary fear to have, and certainly to allow to consume him on an intermittent basis, but sometimes he simply couldn’t suppress it. Perhaps it spoke to his anxiety of the unknown, or his fear of losing control, but he wasn’t certain of either of those things nor did he have the money to pay a therapist to confirm the suspicions. So, he simply gave into the fear on occasion, allowing it to plague his thoughts as he chain smoked in an attempt to soothe his anxieties.<br/><br/>Generally speaking on a day following one of these sleepless nights he simply wouldn’t show up to work. Isaac rarely questioned it, sometimes dropping in to check on him but very infrequently forcing him from the comfortable confines of his room. He assumed as he finally drifted off around 5:00 AM that it would be no different on that particular day. Unfortunately, he was wrong. He had passed out on the couch whilst tangled up in a couple of his favorite soft throw blankets, clutching a half empty bottle of vodka to his chest beneath the coverings. Just a sliver of his thigh poked out from beneath his fortress, whilst the rest of him remained firmly snuggled beneath. The coffee table in front of him was neatly set, and the ashtray that sat perfectly centered on the surface was filled with the remnants of at least three full packs of cigarettes, if not more. Clearly he’d been chain smoking the night before, as he made it a habit of his to keep his living space more or less neat and that included maintaining an empty ashtray. A haze of cigarette smoke also hung heavy in the air, further testament to his night of terror.<br/><br/>The boy didn’t stir when Isaac entered, he was dead to the world at the time. He did begin to become cognizant again, however, when the crisp smell of peppermint tea began to tickle his nose. He hummed groggily to himself but didn’t move from the position he’d taken on, unable to repress the smallest of smiles from tugging at his lips as he heard Isaac’s delightful voice singing softly as he approached. He still didn’t move when he felt the edge of the couch dip down as his companion's weight pressed down into it. He grunted softly in response to each of the man’s statements, still trying to force his body to wake up fully. He didn’t wish to rise; let the damned tea get cold, he needed to rest. He’d barely even slept a wink at that stage. Isaac didn’t seem likely to allow that to happen, however, as he began repeatedly jabbing poor Marco in the side.<br/><br/>“I’m up! I’m up!” the boy cried out, slapping away Issac’s hand weakly from beneath his coverings. He remained in his reclined position for a few more seconds before slowly drawing himself up to a seated position, grumbling incoherently to himself as he slipped his pale legs from behind his part time lover and placed them flat on the ground. He peeled the blankets back from his head though he insisted on keeping himself bundled up in them lest he begin shivering as he and his employer began a little early morning chat. He then discarded the half empty bottle of strong alcohol, sighing softly as he watched it fall to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. He reached out and grabbed a hold of a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter after the bottle had settled, drawing one of the smokes out and placing it between his lips before lighting it up and taking a long, appreciative drag. Only then did he shift his beautiful pale green gaze over onto Isaac, his lips pulled into a precious little pout as he drew the little tube from between them and held it delicately between the ring and middle finger of his right hand. “Is there a reason you’re disturbing me at this god forsaken time?” he whispered, quirking an eyebrow upwards. As he spoke smoke trickled from his plump lips, and contributed to filling the space with the distinctly sharp scent that cigarettes emitted.<br/><br/>Marco glanced over onto the platter that Isaac had set out whilst he awaited a response from the man. He reached out with his free hand and grabbed a hold on one of the mugs, lifting it up towards his lips and pausing before he actually took a sip. He appreciated the way the warmth wafted across his face and the crisp smell penetrated the thick tar that had most likely settled in his lungs from year of chain smoking. He sighed softly to himself then before taking a sip, his eyes fluttering closed as he nestled back into the comfortable couch whilst drinking. He always looked good, in an unhealthy sort of way, but he looked particularly unwell on that morning. Hours of withheld sleep had deepened the black bags that seemed to exist perpetually beneath his eyes, and he looked particularly pale and sickly. His hands shook ever so slightly as they held onto both a smoke and a mug of tea, and he tried his best to control the trembling but that effort didn’t seem to be working in his favor.