Marco rolled his eyes at Ryuu's protests, he couldn't help but to begin to feel accustomed to them by now. They'd become a fond, comforting background noise like the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the fish tank filter whirring away in the lounge or the traffic out front.<br/><br/>He turned playfully on his heel, letting the last of the adrenaline pool in his veins like the post-sex wash and sauntered back to his models couch, sinking down, leather jacket whispering against the cream upholstery. He watched his oriental plaything with the lazy calculations of a cat watching a bird beyond the window pane. Gentle, half lidded planning, the lust and ambition of a predator prowling just beneath the surface.<br/><br/>It was getting on with it.<br/><br/>The evening was creeping into peripheral vision of the sky, clouds, tanged in rich oranges and pink dappling its surface. The bright final push of sunlight fell across Marco, painting streaks across his features. Two soft dark eyes watched from just beneath the mop of dark curls that crowned his head. He rolled himself a cigarette absently, long digits, artists fingers, toying with the papers and tobacco softly, "That's clever stuff," he nodded towards the lotion, voice softening a tone or two. Settled Marco was... he was pleasing to the eye in an untraditional kind of way. His long legs were crossed, stance relaxed, figure lean and slender under the shirt and jeans. Only the slight spatter of blood against the pale of his shirt gave him away as an unnerving individual, asides that he held himself like a gentlemen reclining after a long evening.<br/><br/>But then that's how Marco got away with it.<br/><br/>"I might be out for the evening, you can take care of yourself it seems,"