Marcus opened the door to the Common Chamber and he and Peter entered the large lounge, the door softly closing shut behind them. There was no sign of Trenton or Dante, so the older man assumed the two had taken their pissing contest elsewhere. Out of habit, he scanned the room, looking for someone who might catch his eye.<br/><br/>As luck would have it, that someone was leaning against a pillar across the room, thumb tucked into the towel wrapped around a taut waist, and the rest of the chiseled torso gleaming in the soft light. The stranger had a near perfect physique, every muscle and sinew defined and sharp. The closely shaved scalp, the eyes that missed nothing, the proud stance...Marcus recognized a fellow jarhead when he saw one. Once a Marine, always a Marine.<br/><br/>Grinning, he sauntered his way across the room, moving slowly and silently, just the way they taught him at Camp Lejeune. As he approached, he saw the brown eyes glance over him, but the dark man didn't look away, nor did he smile. He assessed Marcus' approach with cool indifference. Marcus crossed his arms across his furred chest and leaned a hip against the column, giving the man an up-down look, then raising a dark eyebrow. "Semper Fi, Do or Die."<br/><br/>