(no subject)
The questioning process. Pleads about a puppy at home that needs to be feed. All together pathetic, really. Mark is to get a special visitor in the next log. Stay tuuuuned.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
New York Police Department - Interogation Room
There's not much to this windowless room, which has been painted off-white, so as to not distract those interrogating - or those being interrogated. Two wooden, straight-back chairs have been placed on either side of a long table, with one of the seats facing a large two-way mirror that covers half of one wall. Several burly officers can usually be found standing unobtrusively in each corner, to either motivate the suspects into talking, or to intervene in case of trouble.
[Exits : [O]ut ]
[Players : Vincent, and James ]
James sits quietly at the table as his attention is currently on a stack of papers in front of him. His eyes skimming over
the reports as he makes a mental note of the events that happened last night. Remaining focused on the papers he reaches
for his soda and quickly glances at the door. "Anytime now..."
Vincent is, at the moment, being far less responsible - the cell phone beeping quietly along in his grip currently playing
host to a rather intense round of Tetris. Level five. "I hope so. July fourth, and here we are, set to interrogate some
prick who can make tables dance."
The door of the room opens and two police pull in the very same prick that Vincent is talking about. Mark is cuffed and he
looks rather ruffled, more than likely from the scraps and freshly forming bruises, as well as the day and a half old
clothing which is still wrinkled and bloody. He peers around the room and is lead to the chair facing the window. Mark is
pushed down into it and he winces as the contact to the chair rattles some sore places. His eyes automatically glue down at
the tabletop.
As Mark enters the room all of James' attention is focused on him. His eyes studying the man as he is ushered to a chair
and seated quietly, "Glad you could join us Mark." A light smile crosses his face as the two other officers leave just as
quietly as they entered the room. "Now I want you to know, that as of right now you are charged with destruction of private
property, attempted murder, and disturbing the peace. Heavy charges Mark, though all you have to do is talk and they could
easily just go away." James looks at Vincent and gives him a nod and a wink, waiting for him to chime in on this guy.
Vincent isn't smiling. He's very busily punching buttons on his cellphone - namely, the power button - as the device is
pushed back into place in its respective pocket. Throat cleared, brows knit, he doesn't say anything just yet, content to
allow his dark glare to do his talking for him.
Mark glances up at James as his name is spoken. The young man attempts to say something, but his dry throat only allows a
grunt. He simply bobs his head and looks back down at the table. The charges cause Marks eyes to widen slightly. Murder?
Well, in a way Mark figured it would have lead to that... but it would have been Gambit out on top of that battle. Mark
tucked his cuffed hands into his lap, fighting the urge to take them. Instead he closes his eyes and carefully loosens them
slightly to prevent the metal from cutting into his wrists. It's far too slow for any but the most observant to notice.
"Talk...?" He finally says, his eyes the only things moving up to look at the police.
"Yes Mark we want you to talk, we want your side of the story." James stands and slides his chair under the table, though
he doesn't walk away from it; he just leans on the back. "Last night in the bar you were drinking and then somehow you and
this other guy got into a fight." He glances at the papers, "Why? Keep in mind that you don't have to answer if you don't
want to, and you can request a lawyer as well." Man needs to know his rights, going to eliminate as many loopholes as
possible.
"The truth, if you please. Keep in mind that you aren't the only person present that we've spoken to today." Leaning
forward enough to steeple his fingers lazily on the table before him, Vincent makes no move to stand, simply continuing to
watch the younger man over the tips of his own fingers.
Mark brings his back up to push against the chair, his eyes floating from James to Vincent and back. The actor nods
quietly, his frown not moving from it's downward slant. Mark chews thoughtfully on his bottom lip as James speaks. His eyes
finally tear away. "Zis ozer man.... with ze glowing eyes... he was getting abusive to a women in ze bar. I stood up to him
on her behalf, and he threatened me." Mark nodded to himself as the story unfolds. "He kept at it... an' I shoved him away
from her... he swung at me... we fought..." The boy shook his head. "I had to defend myself... Zis man. He makes things
glow, zen blow up. I... I had to throw tables in my way to prevent ze explosions from reaching me and ze rest of ze bar."
He explains with a sigh. He sounds very confident in his own story.
James glances at Vincent as he speaks and nods in agreement with him, then he returns his eyes to Mark. As mark speaks he
can see the story playing out in his mind, the two men fighting, and the woman running. "I see well my report says here you
threw the first punch. Why? Did you want to fight with this guy? Did he do something to you before? Was the woman he was
with, did you know her? I need more Mark.."
Vincent continues to listen and watch, the alert nature of his gaze hardly flickering as Mark relates his story, and James
requests more details. "Alternatively, how long had you been at the bar before this happened? How much had you had to
drink?"
Mark idly flicks at the chain between his cuffs. He watches it swing and clank, the words of the police coming to little
surprise to the young man. "He was... ah, ze word... har... harassing her." The boy insists, a quick glance thrown up at
James. "I have had... bad experiences... in ze past... yes. Would not leave alone... I had to dp somezing." Mark took a
while before answering Vincent's question. "I had been in ze bar for only two hours... at ze most." He makes no indication
as to how much he had drunk.
This was an interesting case to say the least, and really James was stumped on how to proceed with it. "Two hours is a long
time. A man can do a lot of drinkin in that time there Mark." James glances at Vincent, "Heya Vincent can I talk to outside
a moment." He glances at Mark and then to Vincent.
Vincent nods, forcing a smile for Mark as he pushes his chair back and stretches up onto his feet, his footfalls proving to
be more of an answer than the nod, as he's definitely moving for the door. "Not like he's going anywhere fast, anyway."
Mark glances up and his upper lip twitches slightly as James assumes that the boy was completely sloshed. He keeps his
mouth shut, watching them decide that a private talk was in order. Mark looks up at the mirror, his own reflection staring
right back at him.
As James and Vincent leave the room a uniformed officer enters the room and closes the door behind him, his eyes never
leaving Mark. Outside and away from the suspect James sighs and looks to Vincent. "Okay what do you think Vincent? I've got
a gut feelin the guy is telling the truth." His hands slip into his pocket as he watches Vincent, "Gimme some feedback
here."
"I'm with you. I'm thinking he was probably drunk, probably acting off a gut instinct...some history. I don't think he
planned to kill the other guy, but he still helped to cause a hell of a lot of damage in that bar. Probably just going
through a rough patch, or something. Seems like a nice enough guy, otherwise. A little clueless." Glancing back to the
closed door, Vincent sighs. "Probably thought he was doing the right thing at the time."
"I'm sure he was doing the right thing then. The other patrons said that even though he threw the first punch the guy with
the eyes wouldn't leave the girl alone." James scratches the back of his head as he looks at the door, "Okay I say we let
him walk with a slap on the wrist. The most we can get him on is disturbing the peace and the owners of the bar have yet to
press any charges." He sighs, "It's your call Vincent."
You page, "No no... hehe! I think Mark's acting skills and genuine patheticness is going to save him here. Though I mean really... he could get out any time he wanted. Bars and walls? He can befriend them." to Sabella.
Sabella pages, "Ahh, that's quite true!" to you.
"I'd like to see if we can't get him talking to somebody to avoid a repeat offense, or a bigger problem down the line.
Otherwise, let him go. We have bigger fish to fry, and frankly, it's his buddy that I"
There's a moment's pause before Vincent answers, one hand lifted in a remotely reluctant gesture, palm up, before it goes
to the back of his neck. "I'd like to see if we can't get him talking to somebody to avoid a repeat offense, or a bigger
problem down the line. Otherwise, let him go. We have bigger fish to fry, and frankly, it's his buddy that I'm interested
in nailing down."
James nods at Vincent and smiles, "Yeah like a councilor or something right? Hmm well I don't know of anyone except Doctor
Grey, but I think she's busy. I could give her a call and tell her to talk with the guy." James fumbles in his pocket
looking for her card, "I got it here somewhere." Finding the card he smiles and nods, "Yeah I think so too. So let's get in
there, scare the shit outta this guy and kick him out. Sound like a plan?"
"/The/ Doctor Grey? Damn." Shifting to fold his arms across his chest, and trying very hard not to look impressed (or
jealous), it's with lifted brows that Vincent manages to nod agreeably. "Probably a good idea - calling her. You should
see if she wants to come down to the station." Not quite able to suppress a smirk at that, Vincent clears his throat and
turns almost immediately back to the door. "Sounds like a plan."
Inside the room Mark keeps his eyes moving around the bored room. The young man looks thoroughly depressed, the wrinkles on
his forehead bunching up and the bags under his eyes increasing in depth. The boy let out a withering sigh, his cuffs
gently clanking on the under ledge of the table. There is a single glance given to the cop watching him, but he tries not
to look that way.
James nods at Vincent as he reaches in his pocket for his own cell phone, flipping the cover. "Well I'll go ahead and give
her a ring if you want to go in and give him that glare you gave me earlier." He chuckles, "When you thought I was making
fun of your height." James leans against the wall and begins to dial the number on the card.
Vincent turns back long enough to roll his eyes lazily over his shoulder - a milder version of the same glare cast briefly
backwards before his hand falls over the door handle and turns it to readmit him into the starkly furnished room. The cop
that had been standing guard excused with a nod, Vincent closes the door after him before allowing his arms to cross neatly
back over his chest. "You couldn't have waited until July fifth to get drunk and heroic? It had to be the fourth?"
Mark turns his attention to the door as Vincent reenters. The boy only lets his gaze linger for a moment, and he lets it
drop back to the table. His fingers mesh together and he tightens his frown as the other speaks. Mark glances up, looking
rather confused. "Is zis a... bad day?" He asks. The 4th of July means nothing to him for a moment, but then it clicks.
"Oh... yes... America day, no?" He gives a sigh. "Was not planned, Sir. Was not planned. I did not mean it to happen."
After a moment or so James returns to the interrogation room, cell phone return to his pocket and the door closed behind
him. "Well it seems you are going to have a visitor Mark." James smiles and leans against the door watching Vincent and
Mark as if waiting for some cue to chime in.
"That's right, buddy. America day. I should be at home watching fireworks on TV and drinking beer, and I'm stuck here
trying to decide what the hell we need to do with some French kid who can't say 'this' or 'the' but doesn't seem to have a
problem with putting a fist in another mutant's face and making furniture wiggle around after a few drinks." Rolling his
eyes again, this time for Mark, Vincent's relentless glare is otherwise unbroken, even as James slides back in.
Mark looks rather worried as the other cop comes in. "Visitor? Who? Can I not be going home? I have a puppy zere... he will
need to be feed." Mark explains in a concerned voice. Vincent makes Mark cringe and lower his eyes. "I can... I can say
t-this and the..." He says, applying the accent Nevaeh had taught him. "I told you... I am sorry. I did not mean..." Mark's
voice trails off and he looks up. "I just wish to be going home."
"We'll send a uniform by to take care of your dog for you. This visitor is just someone who wants to talk to you Mark."
James folds his arms over his chest and glares. "You've been given something special, a power that few people have. Now I
understand you were using it in self defense, but I would /like/ you to exercise a little more caution. As you can tell
Mutants aren't very popular right now. So you've an hour and you can stay in here, when she shows up. She'll talk and then
you're free to go, NOT until then understand me. Consider this your punishment for making me miss fireworks and beer."
Vincent takes the pair of steps necessary to stand at James' side, his focus on Mark meaningful until he shifts it lazily
onto James, and lowers his voice so that it can hopefully only be heard by the taller detective. "I guess this means I'm
the bad cop, then."
Mark looks rather miserable now, though he was sure Roger the husky would love attention from anyone he could get it. The
young man slumps his shoulders, clicking the cuffs against the table again. "Yes, Monsieur. I am sorry." He mumbles and
bites his bottom lip again. The words of the cop slightly annoy Mark, but he uses years of acting skills to present himself
as a very sorry young lad. The comment between the two is missed and Mark simply shakes his head. "When I talk to her. I
will go after... after only zat..." His accent flicks back into his voice. "Zank you."
James chuckles at Vincent and whispers, "You've got that angry look about you. You know like you could straight rip a man's
testicles off in less than two seconds without so much as flinching." He is quick to clear his throat and glare at Mark,
"Right one hour. Sit here enjoy the time alone and we'll get you a soda." James pushes himself off the door and opens it.
"You need to add anything Vincent?"
Vincent eyes James. "I'd take more than two seconds to find a pair of gloves, first." Tugging the sleeves of his suitcoat
down a little straighter, it's with a certain amount of effort that he suppresses any further comment on the subject, his
distracted attention falling belatedly back onto Mark. "No. Er - well, yes, actually. I was just kidding about the 'the'
thing. Oh - and one more thing - Coke or Pepsi?"
Mark looks at the two, looking considerably more relived now. He leans back in the chair, letting a long breath escape from
his lips. What they're talking about is missed, but he gets the parts that are directed at him. "Yes. I will." He assures
the other man, nodding. Vincent is given an odd look, but Mark only shrugs. "It is okay..." The boy says and pulls a face.
"Mm... Coke, I suppose?"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
New York Police Department - Interogation Room
There's not much to this windowless room, which has been painted off-white, so as to not distract those interrogating - or those being interrogated. Two wooden, straight-back chairs have been placed on either side of a long table, with one of the seats facing a large two-way mirror that covers half of one wall. Several burly officers can usually be found standing unobtrusively in each corner, to either motivate the suspects into talking, or to intervene in case of trouble.
[Exits : [O]ut ]
[Players : Vincent, and James ]
James sits quietly at the table as his attention is currently on a stack of papers in front of him. His eyes skimming over
the reports as he makes a mental note of the events that happened last night. Remaining focused on the papers he reaches
for his soda and quickly glances at the door. "Anytime now..."
Vincent is, at the moment, being far less responsible - the cell phone beeping quietly along in his grip currently playing
host to a rather intense round of Tetris. Level five. "I hope so. July fourth, and here we are, set to interrogate some
prick who can make tables dance."
The door of the room opens and two police pull in the very same prick that Vincent is talking about. Mark is cuffed and he
looks rather ruffled, more than likely from the scraps and freshly forming bruises, as well as the day and a half old
clothing which is still wrinkled and bloody. He peers around the room and is lead to the chair facing the window. Mark is
pushed down into it and he winces as the contact to the chair rattles some sore places. His eyes automatically glue down at
the tabletop.
As Mark enters the room all of James' attention is focused on him. His eyes studying the man as he is ushered to a chair
and seated quietly, "Glad you could join us Mark." A light smile crosses his face as the two other officers leave just as
quietly as they entered the room. "Now I want you to know, that as of right now you are charged with destruction of private
property, attempted murder, and disturbing the peace. Heavy charges Mark, though all you have to do is talk and they could
easily just go away." James looks at Vincent and gives him a nod and a wink, waiting for him to chime in on this guy.
Vincent isn't smiling. He's very busily punching buttons on his cellphone - namely, the power button - as the device is
pushed back into place in its respective pocket. Throat cleared, brows knit, he doesn't say anything just yet, content to
allow his dark glare to do his talking for him.
Mark glances up at James as his name is spoken. The young man attempts to say something, but his dry throat only allows a
grunt. He simply bobs his head and looks back down at the table. The charges cause Marks eyes to widen slightly. Murder?
Well, in a way Mark figured it would have lead to that... but it would have been Gambit out on top of that battle. Mark
tucked his cuffed hands into his lap, fighting the urge to take them. Instead he closes his eyes and carefully loosens them
slightly to prevent the metal from cutting into his wrists. It's far too slow for any but the most observant to notice.
"Talk...?" He finally says, his eyes the only things moving up to look at the police.
"Yes Mark we want you to talk, we want your side of the story." James stands and slides his chair under the table, though
he doesn't walk away from it; he just leans on the back. "Last night in the bar you were drinking and then somehow you and
this other guy got into a fight." He glances at the papers, "Why? Keep in mind that you don't have to answer if you don't
want to, and you can request a lawyer as well." Man needs to know his rights, going to eliminate as many loopholes as
possible.
"The truth, if you please. Keep in mind that you aren't the only person present that we've spoken to today." Leaning
forward enough to steeple his fingers lazily on the table before him, Vincent makes no move to stand, simply continuing to
watch the younger man over the tips of his own fingers.
Mark brings his back up to push against the chair, his eyes floating from James to Vincent and back. The actor nods
quietly, his frown not moving from it's downward slant. Mark chews thoughtfully on his bottom lip as James speaks. His eyes
finally tear away. "Zis ozer man.... with ze glowing eyes... he was getting abusive to a women in ze bar. I stood up to him
on her behalf, and he threatened me." Mark nodded to himself as the story unfolds. "He kept at it... an' I shoved him away
from her... he swung at me... we fought..." The boy shook his head. "I had to defend myself... Zis man. He makes things
glow, zen blow up. I... I had to throw tables in my way to prevent ze explosions from reaching me and ze rest of ze bar."
He explains with a sigh. He sounds very confident in his own story.
James glances at Vincent as he speaks and nods in agreement with him, then he returns his eyes to Mark. As mark speaks he
can see the story playing out in his mind, the two men fighting, and the woman running. "I see well my report says here you
threw the first punch. Why? Did you want to fight with this guy? Did he do something to you before? Was the woman he was
with, did you know her? I need more Mark.."
Vincent continues to listen and watch, the alert nature of his gaze hardly flickering as Mark relates his story, and James
requests more details. "Alternatively, how long had you been at the bar before this happened? How much had you had to
drink?"
Mark idly flicks at the chain between his cuffs. He watches it swing and clank, the words of the police coming to little
surprise to the young man. "He was... ah, ze word... har... harassing her." The boy insists, a quick glance thrown up at
James. "I have had... bad experiences... in ze past... yes. Would not leave alone... I had to dp somezing." Mark took a
while before answering Vincent's question. "I had been in ze bar for only two hours... at ze most." He makes no indication
as to how much he had drunk.
This was an interesting case to say the least, and really James was stumped on how to proceed with it. "Two hours is a long
time. A man can do a lot of drinkin in that time there Mark." James glances at Vincent, "Heya Vincent can I talk to outside
a moment." He glances at Mark and then to Vincent.
Vincent nods, forcing a smile for Mark as he pushes his chair back and stretches up onto his feet, his footfalls proving to
be more of an answer than the nod, as he's definitely moving for the door. "Not like he's going anywhere fast, anyway."
Mark glances up and his upper lip twitches slightly as James assumes that the boy was completely sloshed. He keeps his
mouth shut, watching them decide that a private talk was in order. Mark looks up at the mirror, his own reflection staring
right back at him.
As James and Vincent leave the room a uniformed officer enters the room and closes the door behind him, his eyes never
leaving Mark. Outside and away from the suspect James sighs and looks to Vincent. "Okay what do you think Vincent? I've got
a gut feelin the guy is telling the truth." His hands slip into his pocket as he watches Vincent, "Gimme some feedback
here."
"I'm with you. I'm thinking he was probably drunk, probably acting off a gut instinct...some history. I don't think he
planned to kill the other guy, but he still helped to cause a hell of a lot of damage in that bar. Probably just going
through a rough patch, or something. Seems like a nice enough guy, otherwise. A little clueless." Glancing back to the
closed door, Vincent sighs. "Probably thought he was doing the right thing at the time."
"I'm sure he was doing the right thing then. The other patrons said that even though he threw the first punch the guy with
the eyes wouldn't leave the girl alone." James scratches the back of his head as he looks at the door, "Okay I say we let
him walk with a slap on the wrist. The most we can get him on is disturbing the peace and the owners of the bar have yet to
press any charges." He sighs, "It's your call Vincent."
You page, "No no... hehe! I think Mark's acting skills and genuine patheticness is going to save him here. Though I mean really... he could get out any time he wanted. Bars and walls? He can befriend them." to Sabella.
Sabella pages, "Ahh, that's quite true!" to you.
"I'd like to see if we can't get him talking to somebody to avoid a repeat offense, or a bigger problem down the line.
Otherwise, let him go. We have bigger fish to fry, and frankly, it's his buddy that I"
There's a moment's pause before Vincent answers, one hand lifted in a remotely reluctant gesture, palm up, before it goes
to the back of his neck. "I'd like to see if we can't get him talking to somebody to avoid a repeat offense, or a bigger
problem down the line. Otherwise, let him go. We have bigger fish to fry, and frankly, it's his buddy that I'm interested
in nailing down."
James nods at Vincent and smiles, "Yeah like a councilor or something right? Hmm well I don't know of anyone except Doctor
Grey, but I think she's busy. I could give her a call and tell her to talk with the guy." James fumbles in his pocket
looking for her card, "I got it here somewhere." Finding the card he smiles and nods, "Yeah I think so too. So let's get in
there, scare the shit outta this guy and kick him out. Sound like a plan?"
"/The/ Doctor Grey? Damn." Shifting to fold his arms across his chest, and trying very hard not to look impressed (or
jealous), it's with lifted brows that Vincent manages to nod agreeably. "Probably a good idea - calling her. You should
see if she wants to come down to the station." Not quite able to suppress a smirk at that, Vincent clears his throat and
turns almost immediately back to the door. "Sounds like a plan."
Inside the room Mark keeps his eyes moving around the bored room. The young man looks thoroughly depressed, the wrinkles on
his forehead bunching up and the bags under his eyes increasing in depth. The boy let out a withering sigh, his cuffs
gently clanking on the under ledge of the table. There is a single glance given to the cop watching him, but he tries not
to look that way.
James nods at Vincent as he reaches in his pocket for his own cell phone, flipping the cover. "Well I'll go ahead and give
her a ring if you want to go in and give him that glare you gave me earlier." He chuckles, "When you thought I was making
fun of your height." James leans against the wall and begins to dial the number on the card.
Vincent turns back long enough to roll his eyes lazily over his shoulder - a milder version of the same glare cast briefly
backwards before his hand falls over the door handle and turns it to readmit him into the starkly furnished room. The cop
that had been standing guard excused with a nod, Vincent closes the door after him before allowing his arms to cross neatly
back over his chest. "You couldn't have waited until July fifth to get drunk and heroic? It had to be the fourth?"
Mark turns his attention to the door as Vincent reenters. The boy only lets his gaze linger for a moment, and he lets it
drop back to the table. His fingers mesh together and he tightens his frown as the other speaks. Mark glances up, looking
rather confused. "Is zis a... bad day?" He asks. The 4th of July means nothing to him for a moment, but then it clicks.
"Oh... yes... America day, no?" He gives a sigh. "Was not planned, Sir. Was not planned. I did not mean it to happen."
After a moment or so James returns to the interrogation room, cell phone return to his pocket and the door closed behind
him. "Well it seems you are going to have a visitor Mark." James smiles and leans against the door watching Vincent and
Mark as if waiting for some cue to chime in.
"That's right, buddy. America day. I should be at home watching fireworks on TV and drinking beer, and I'm stuck here
trying to decide what the hell we need to do with some French kid who can't say 'this' or 'the' but doesn't seem to have a
problem with putting a fist in another mutant's face and making furniture wiggle around after a few drinks." Rolling his
eyes again, this time for Mark, Vincent's relentless glare is otherwise unbroken, even as James slides back in.
Mark looks rather worried as the other cop comes in. "Visitor? Who? Can I not be going home? I have a puppy zere... he will
need to be feed." Mark explains in a concerned voice. Vincent makes Mark cringe and lower his eyes. "I can... I can say
t-this and the..." He says, applying the accent Nevaeh had taught him. "I told you... I am sorry. I did not mean..." Mark's
voice trails off and he looks up. "I just wish to be going home."
"We'll send a uniform by to take care of your dog for you. This visitor is just someone who wants to talk to you Mark."
James folds his arms over his chest and glares. "You've been given something special, a power that few people have. Now I
understand you were using it in self defense, but I would /like/ you to exercise a little more caution. As you can tell
Mutants aren't very popular right now. So you've an hour and you can stay in here, when she shows up. She'll talk and then
you're free to go, NOT until then understand me. Consider this your punishment for making me miss fireworks and beer."
Vincent takes the pair of steps necessary to stand at James' side, his focus on Mark meaningful until he shifts it lazily
onto James, and lowers his voice so that it can hopefully only be heard by the taller detective. "I guess this means I'm
the bad cop, then."
Mark looks rather miserable now, though he was sure Roger the husky would love attention from anyone he could get it. The
young man slumps his shoulders, clicking the cuffs against the table again. "Yes, Monsieur. I am sorry." He mumbles and
bites his bottom lip again. The words of the cop slightly annoy Mark, but he uses years of acting skills to present himself
as a very sorry young lad. The comment between the two is missed and Mark simply shakes his head. "When I talk to her. I
will go after... after only zat..." His accent flicks back into his voice. "Zank you."
James chuckles at Vincent and whispers, "You've got that angry look about you. You know like you could straight rip a man's
testicles off in less than two seconds without so much as flinching." He is quick to clear his throat and glare at Mark,
"Right one hour. Sit here enjoy the time alone and we'll get you a soda." James pushes himself off the door and opens it.
"You need to add anything Vincent?"
Vincent eyes James. "I'd take more than two seconds to find a pair of gloves, first." Tugging the sleeves of his suitcoat
down a little straighter, it's with a certain amount of effort that he suppresses any further comment on the subject, his
distracted attention falling belatedly back onto Mark. "No. Er - well, yes, actually. I was just kidding about the 'the'
thing. Oh - and one more thing - Coke or Pepsi?"
Mark looks at the two, looking considerably more relived now. He leans back in the chair, letting a long breath escape from
his lips. What they're talking about is missed, but he gets the parts that are directed at him. "Yes. I will." He assures
the other man, nodding. Vincent is given an odd look, but Mark only shrugs. "It is okay..." The boy says and pulls a face.
"Mm... Coke, I suppose?"