One call was all it took; the bath was soon drained, and Markus was quickly toweling down. After pulling a comb through his hair, he was off.<br/><br/>He took a few steps into the office, inadvertently allowing the door to slam behind him. Passing a glance over his shoulder, his expression slightly vexed as he focused on the source of the noise for a moment. Turning toward the group, he grinned to each of them from behind his sparkling sunglasses, his wet hair and slightly foggy shades among the tell-tale signs that he had just come from a hot bath.<br/><br/>Were it not for his freshly wet 'fancy pompadour', AKA tunnel-snake hair-do, one will still be able to surmise his recent activities, as he stood before the group clad in Gomorrah's guest bathrobe and slippers. He took a sip from the amber liquid in the double shot glass he held in his left hand before nodding his head and raising his right hand, a cigar nestled in between his pointer, middle-finger and thumb.<span style="color: DarkRed">"You rang, Lady Rainbow?"</span>the smirk on his face breifly interrupted as he placed the cigar back between his lips.<br/><br/>From behind the concealment of his glasses he scanned each person in the room, always on the lookout for any immediate threat. He shifted slightly, the shoulder holster somewhat irritating to his bare skin, but the comfort he felt from weight of the object it supported beneath his left arm, more than made up for the inconvenience.<br/><br/>To those unfamiliar with him, it would seem as if this guy might be completely clueless to the type of work that a group of this caliber would be performing. Of course, those familiar with him would most certainly know that concealed beneath his cushy robes would be the only 'lady' that he could say he completely trusted; "Sally" his black, perpetually locked and loaded .45.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>