The question threw Marcus off for a moment, and he had to actually look around for the source of the noise. Lex was far quicker to respond than he was; something about not having to look at the person he was addressing had made his quick wit even quicker. “It’s a machine that makes people mind their own business,” he said, before Marcus clapped a hand over his mouth.<br/><br/>“I’m sorry about my brother, he’s-” Lex tried to say ‘-minding his own business,’ but it all came out as muffled gibberish through Marc’s hand. “-<span style="font-style: italic">bad with people.</span>It’s just something that I’ve been working on for a while. Labor of love, that sort of thing.”<br/><br/>It was fortunate for both brothers that Lex couldn’t see, or else he might have remarked on the fact that this girl did not look like she belonged here at all. In the tinker shop, or in Termina at all. She looked like a survivor, he supposed, but only barely. Her hair could have stood to see a wash, her clothes could’ve used the same, and she had a gun at her hip… Really, she looked more like an out of place well-to-do than a survivor, but they were<span style="font-style: italic">all</span>survivors here.<br/><br/>After a few moments of deity-level toleration on Lex’s part, Marcus finally felt the other’s teeth clamp down on his hand. Marcus bit his own lip to keep from swearing up and down in front of a stranger, and Lex took the opportunity. “Your vernacular is quite fine, you know,” he half-complimented, putting on his own airs that Marcus never saw much since he’d stopped being a doctor. “I can almost<span style="font-style: italic">hear</span>the money dripping from your voice.”<br/><br/>“Can’t take you anywhere,” Marcus mumbled under his breath. Sure, he wasn’t too great at socializing, himself, but Lex had created this barrier around himself so that nothing could broach his comfort zone. He scoffed slightly and turned back to the out of place woman. “I’m sorry. Really.” Lex just shook his head.