As much as it is understandable, Marc fails to recall most of the prior's days events. Which makes things ever so slightly stranger.
"Oi. Get up."
// hi, guys. sorry for the lack of responses, just haven't had much moonie muse lately; but with the marvel zombies announcement it might have been rekindled.
It was covering his back in that recognizable crescent shape with every stride and jump; uncaring of being spotted by the passerby of New York. This is simply another Sunday at night for the city.
But to him, oh, no. There's an itch to be scratched. A challenge to undertake.
β
(It wasn't a mistake. He knows that in a moment's notice, he's either going to be throttled or tackled. Either option was not pleasant, but words fail to express whatever π΅π©πͺπ΄ is.
Round and round, the carousel goes. To evade either possibility, β)
(The speed of which it was thrown is deadly. Except, he had anticipated an aggressive approach for Bullseye to make himself known; that he's aware of his existence. His head tilts to the other side. A crescent dart is thrown, brushing just past the top of the man's head.)
(Silently watching him throw a hissy fit, perched on top of an open windowsill. The building seemed to be abandoned, anyway.)
Real classy.
