Marco scowled, picking his sorry self up from the floor, muscles groaning with the promise of numerous shining bruises, "I. Never. Said. I. Wouldn't. Talk," he growled pacing each and every word with such a stretch of his patience it was barely recognisable as him any more. Marco was made of irrationality, impatience, temperamentality, sugar and spice and everything nice, not once in his life had he ever extended a hand to care of gentleness. This was fucking groundbreaking.<br/><br/>He leaned against the wall, arms folded, eyes narrowed, watching the cornered cat of a catch glare at him with such venom it should have taken the wallpaper off behind him.<br/><br/>"You don't want to negotiate I'll fucking tie you up, drug you and wait it out like the fucking tide!" he could taste something on his lip, something warm, salty, sickly sweet and ... recognisably metallic. He figured somewhere in the fall the little bastard had busted his nose. Shit! He'd have him skinned!<br/><br/>"Now, I don't know about you, Ryuu<span style="font-style: italic">darling</span>, but I don't have all day, I'm a busy man, so I'm willing to sit here and hear you out if you'll do the same," he drummed his digits across the arm of his jacket, fingertips across leather making soft, warm pitter-patters. His dark eyes glistened in a strange humour again, "I might even make you tea,"