Title: What Telling Birthday Wishes Brings
Author: Third Charm
Fandom: Babylon 5
Pairings: Marcus/Neroon.
Story Type: Romantic Comedy
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Babylon 5 and all subsequent major characters, plots, and ideas are the property of J. Michael Straczynski, Babylonian Inc. and Warner Bros. The following story was written only for the purposes of entertainment. No income had been made.
Warnings: VERY, VERY AU (As in canon is just a guideline folks!) and AT, not beta read, ATL death of a canon character, profanity, slash and erotic episodes.
Spoilers: You name it; it's in there.
Summary: This is a sequel to my answer to the Jason Carter Birthday Challenge. Challenge #2: Marcus receives sex toys as a gift from either Susan or Michael for his birthday. Now, THERE IS ALWAYS A MORNING AFTER FOLKS!
Author's Note: One Earth year equals 0.74 Minbari cycles. The Minbari words and phrases were found at the "JumpNow" website in John Hightower's Minbari dictionary, though not all are direct translations.
What Telling Birthday Wishes Brings
Neroon lay propped on the mountain of pillows that he had slept on since being given these quarters. As was his habit, the Shai Alyt had awoken early. Marcus was snuggled against his side, his head resting on Neroon's shoulder. Marcus still slept peacefully and the Warrior was loath to wake him. Neroon gazed down at the face of his sleeping lover. Such innocence Marcus had in his sleep, such peace. His ma'fela slept in the peace of the just. His ma'fela, just thinking those words brought such warmth to his soul. Neroon could still not believe that Marcus had agreed to his proposal last evening, to both of his proposals.
Last evening, over a celebratory "birthday" evening meal, the Anla'Shok Champion had accepted Neroon's formal offer of courtship. That had made the Minbari Shai Alyt unbelievably happy. What had come to him as a gift from Valen, was Marcus's acceptance of Neroon's offer to lead him through the rituals of Li'ransa. When Neroon had confirmed his suspicions that Marcus was as yet unawakened, some inner voice had made him ask Marcus for the honor of being his first. Marcus had agreed.
That had led to the most profound experience of Neroon's life. Marcus had reacted to every caress, to every new experience with such wonder! Simply remembering Marcus's unguarded responses made him shiver in renewed need. Neroon was looking forward to their Shan' Fal with an intensity had had not thought possible. By Valen! It would take all of his self-control to proceed through the proper rituals of courtship without skipping to the end, NOW! Neroon found himself wondering just how much he could speed up the process without having himself be labeled an "aging libertine" and Marcus labeled, well, "fast" as the Humans said.
He did not need to have the Warrior Caste to start the barracks rumors that they were so fond of with his soul mate and himself as the key figures in the stories. Neroon ruefully shook his head, remembering his own turn at spreading such tales. He remembered being a brash young Warrior, fresh out of the training salles, and speculating about his Clan Leader's relationship with his lovely young aide. The things that had been bandied about! Why, Shannora must have reached her position with skills other than those learned in the training salles. And the Clan Leader; wasn't he even ashamed of himself? All he saw was the delicacy of his aide's Crest. Alyt Brenal never kept his mind on Caste affairs anymore. Had he not seen two malas (spouses) to the veil already? Why, there were at least forty cycles separating their ages! There, of course, had never been anything between the two that were so much speculated about.
Valen, he was ashamed of his disrespectful mouth! Had Brenal not gone to the sea already, he would have gone to him and made the most profuse apologies that a Warrior could. Neroon chuckled at the thought. The wily old gok (Minbari feline) would have probably told him, "See how you like it!" and then spread some rumors of his own about Neroon and his love.
Now Neroon found himself in his old Clan Leader's boots. Again, there were at least forty cycles separating his and Marcus's ages. And this time, there definitely was something between the two of them. Valen, Neroon knew he should be ashamed of himself. He should have waited for the courtship to proceed at the proper pace. He should have brought Marcus to the rituals of Li'ransa through proper, and chaperoned, shared communication and meditation. He had practically taken advantage of an innocent last night! But, somehow, all he felt was pride at knowing that it was he who had given Marcus the gift of Lenore Na; that Marcus had chosen him to lead him to his first shared climax.
Neroon again looked down into the sleeping face of his soul mate. Marcus seemed so young, so innocent, too young and innocent to have seen so many horrors. Any so many of them laid at his Marcus's feet by his own race. How could the Humans think one so young as fully adult? When Neroon and the rest of the Caste had found out the median age of the Human Warriors during the Earth-Minbari War had been only thirteen cycles, they had gone through agonies of shame. They had been killing children en mass!
Then, to learn of Id'Minbari, (Minbari-souled humans) well it was not to be borne! It could not be true. The Caste was too honorable, the Council too wise, their War Leaders infallible for such a mistake to be made. So it was simply not true. The Humans must have lied about the attack on the Council's ship being a mechanical failure coupled with fear-induced error on the part of the gunner. The Humans also must have spread lies of gigantic proportions to have the Council believe in Id'Minbari. Therefore, the Caste would not back the Council completely in matters dealing with the Humans. That had led to the Caste opposing Delenn, and the situation had spiraled to the point where Neroon had found himself facing a young Human Anla'Shok in den'shah, the very one now laying in repose so trustingly in his arms.
This Human, this young Human who knew he would die in the Challenge, had refused to back down. Marcus had fought until he couldn't stand. Then at the end, lying there with his body broken, and in a pool of his own blood, Marcus had calmly looked up the denn'bok aimed to strike the final blow, and told Neroon that he died for Delenn. Marcus then called on Valen with what he thought would be his final breath. At that moment Neroon finally understood the truth of Id'Minbari. Humans were being born with Minbari souls. And he had almost murdered one of them. May Valen forgive him, and the rest of the Caste, how many of their re-born brethren had they murdered during the war?
And it had been murder. The Humans' technology was a thousand Earth years behind the Minbaris'. They had been outnumbered, out classed and out gunned. They had died by the tens of millions, and yet they had kept on fighting. No matter how dire, how terrible their plight, the Human Warriors had never run. EarthForce had stood its ground until their lines had been completely smashed, giving the civilians behind them time to evacuate.
A war that had been predicted to last only months had lasted years. The tenacity of the Humans had astounded the Warrior Caste. They fought against a technologically, numerically, and physically stronger enemy with everything they had; grit, determination, suicidal fury, every dirty trick ever seen, and some invented on the spot. They used everything they had to their advantage. Including their blind luck. EarthForce had made every inch gained against them more costly and painful than any enemy the Caste had faced in almost one thousand cycles. That should have earned the Humans respect for from the Minbari Warriors, instead it had earned them scorn. How dare these insects believe they could actually fight, and sometimes win, against the best military in known space! Valen, how arrogant, how vicious, the Caste had been!
Neroon was pulled from his guilt-laden thoughts by the door chime to his quarters going off. Marcus stirred slightly but still did not wake. Neroon slowly extricated himself from his ma'fela's embrace so as not to wake him. He hurriedly donned a bed robe and went to answer the door. The Warrior began to softly swear as the chime sounded again. He reached the door and answered it in a foul mood. At his doorstep stood his most trusted aide, Martag.
"Shai Alyt, I am sorry to disturb… " his aide began in a voice that was too loud in Neroon's opinion.
Therefore, Neroon cut him off quietly and quickly, "Lower your voice now, my friend."
Martag saw his oldest friend's and superior's agitation and took a look around the quarters. Aha! Neroon had been entertaining last night, and by the state of his half-open bed robe and the need for a lower volume, it seemed that he was still, ahem, "entertaining".
Martag knew that Neroon, like many Warriors, would sometimes find a "nameless" liaison for an evening's entertainment. After the evening ended, all names were forgotten. It was mutual amnesia. For all intents and purposes, it never happened. Well, it never happened as long as no one found evidence of it. Neroon's new liaison must still be asleep. Now that was odd. Neroon never let his liaisons stay the night. It was too dangerous to his position.
"Well, this should be interesting to say the least!" Martag thought to himself before starting to tease his oldest friend. "Neroon, should I be leaving? Leaving blind, and pretending I was never here?" asked Martag, with a conspiratorial leer.
"Martag! Get your mind out of the sewers. Last night was a most honorable endeavor. Last evening, after a celebratory evening meal marking his natal day - ah, that is an ancient Human custom - Anla'Shok Cole had accepted my offer of courtship," Neroon huffed; affronted at the turn he knew his friend's thoughts had taken.
Martag was stunned. He had not known that the relationship between the Ranger and the Shai Alyt had turned so serious. He had not known that the relationship had even existed! Or had it? Hmm, if his thoughts were correct, then Neroon had to be the fastest operator in the Caste! By the Grace of Valeria, how was he supposed to keep this from becoming a scandal of epic proportions?! From presentation of suit to bedding in one night! Oh, Valen help him!
"Neroon, are you insane?! What if the Caste found out about this? Oh, Valen! What if the other Castes find out about this? You need to be preserving the honor of the Caste, NOT bedding your intended the minute he accepts your suit! No one on Minbar will care that Humans are much more lax in such things! You will be held to blame. You should have just sent him on his way when he got out of hand, not succumbed like some – some Centauri tart!" Martag ranted in a whispering voice.
"NEVER, AND I MEAN NEVER AGAIN, impugn Marcus's honor! If I ever hear it, or of it, it will be den'shah between us!" Neroon raged in an equally quiet but much more deadly tone.
Martag was astounded by the vehemence of Neroon's words. To place a standing Challenge to den'shah! Neroon must truly love the Ranger.
"I am sorry my friend, I did not mean such things. Please say you did not hear my words," Martag apologized, bowing his head.
Neroon sighed. "No, I did not hear your words my friend, as I hope you did not hear mine," When Martag inclined his head in agreement he went on, "Martag, I speak to you in confidence. Last evening, such a wondrous event occurred. While we spoke of our courtship, Marcus also consented to performing the rituals of Li'ransa with me as his guide."
Well, this morning was one shock right after another! "Neroon…?" Valen, how do you ask a friend if he had overstepped propriety more than he already had?
"Lenore Na only, my friend. And, if you must know, Humans consider such things extremely personal. Marcus would not appreciate this being bandied about," Neroon warned.
"I see. Then I am happy for you and your heart's mate my friend. But, we still have the problem of keeping this away from the gossipmongers. The full War Council session has been moved up to 06:30 hours. New intelligence has come in and we need to be there, we ALL need to be there. We now have exactly thirty-five Standard minutes to get you and your intended ready AND presentable, and at the meeting on time. WITHOUT anyone finding out that the Ranger has spent the night in your quarters," Martag said, still frustrated at the events.
"Ra'sh ta'al Quith! (God damn it)!" Neroon swore. The rest of his staff would now be here any minute! How in the Humans' hell did he keep them from finding out about Marcus?!
Warmth, softness and safety, these were the first sensations to penetrate his consciousness. Marcus burrowed deeper into the soft warmth, enjoying the comfort that he so rarely was able to indulge in. He awoke slowly. He had had such a lovely dream last night and did not want to let it go. Finally, Marcus stretched and opened his eyes. It had been no dream! He really was in Neroon's sleeping chamber, in his bed. Neroon had taken him through Li'ransa last night! Marcus smiled and blushed at the memory. It had been the most beautiful experience of his life. Oh, Jeff and Jesus! He was now engaged to the Shai Alyt!
Marcus heard some faint murmurs coming from the main room. They were speaking Lenn'ah (the Warrior Caste language). Marcus knew Minbari culture well and began to panic. Oh, Bugger! THIS WAS SO NOT GOOD!
"Please, please, God, let them leave! Bloody well make them leave now!" Marcus prayed desperately. If anyone found him here, Neroon's reputation would be ruined, let alone his own! They'd never be able to hold their heads up in Minbari society again!
While Marcus was panicking in his bed, an equally panicked Neroon hurried into the room. Neroon, seeing the terrified "gok in the searchlights look" in his ma'fela's eyes, sat down and quickly explained the situation. He was then treated to a colorful use of Standard that he had not heard before. When Marcus was finished with his lesson in Standard profanity, Martag walked in. Upon seeing the Warrior, Marcus gave a very undignified and frightened squeak and dove further under the covers.
"Oh, for the love of Valen! Even if it may be true, we have no time for you to act the frightened innocent now, Anla'Shok! Your ma'fela's foolishness last night has put us in a bind. I have been able to divert the rest of the staff by having called them and stating that Shai Alyt wants a full analysis as soon as he enters the Council Chamber. They are all currently cursing Neroon's ancestors to the Vales of the Shadows and trying to work battle computations while running to the Chamber to set up the projections."
"Now, we need the both of you dressed and out of here WITHOUT anyone finding out your whereabouts of last night!" Martag said as he looked around and started gathering up Marcus's uniform. "Neroon has fresh uniforms here, but you, oh, you foolish felisil (child)! Yours cannot be repaired quickly! Neroon, did you really have to rip his trousers off?! By the Ancient Ones, it's a wonder he's not hiding under the bed in paroxysms of trauma! Li'ransa indeed!"
Marcus was humiliated and ashamed. And it seemed that it would only get worse. There was no way he could get out of here without anyone in the corridors seeing him, and the state of his uniform! And those had been his favorite boxers! Oh, Valen, every Minbari, (and some Humans) from here to the Rim, will label him a tramp after this. Then Martag's words filtered into his brain, ALL OF HIS WORDS. Well, he'd take care of his telltale fiancé as after they'd gotten out of this mess.
After another bout of manic panicking, Marcus's mind finally began to work in crisis mode. "How much time do we have?" he asked.
"Twenty-five Standard minutes," Neroon answered while cleansing and dressing hurriedly.
"One of you hand me my utility belt," Marcus said while still holding the covers up to his chin and blushing furiously.
Martag, who had the majority of Marcus's now rather tattered uniform in his possession, handed it over.
"Since you have so kindly spilled the beans out of necessity, then I'm calling in back-up of my own. Get ready for a pissed-off, probably hung-over, and caffeine deprived Russian Spretznost Commander," Marcus said as he pulled out a specialized comm link, one not patched through either BabCom or the Minbari Dispatch Channels.
He did this while still keeping everything but his right arm and face completely covered. Sometimes, it paid to be former EFI. The comm activated.
"Phoenix Rising," Marcus said.
"Phoenix Reborn," answered Ivanova. "Marcus, how bad is it? What's your twenty?"
"Situation's FUBAR from here to the bleedin' Rim. Not work. Personal. And buggered, real, real buggered. Twenty's Neroon's. Susan, I need you to push that sodding meeting back at least fifteen minutes and get me a uniform from the Ranger Salle in blue sector. It's closest. Locker code's "Zog". Please don't lecture until you get here. Oh, and I need an invisible exit strategy," Marcus rushed out, hoping to avoid a scolding by overwhelming his best friend on Station with too much information.
It didn't work. Ivanova, being a friend to Delenn, knew some of Minbari culture, and therefore began to fume. She also was Marcus's only confidante, which added to the temper building. "Uniform!? Marcus, we're NOT talking a Casanova exit here, are we?" Susan asked with her temper palpably rising.
Marcus flushed in shame. "Please Susatchka, lecture later, save our political hides now," he begged.
Susan swore profusely in Russian before giving Marcus his answer. "In process. I just had a comm message from your new idiot boyfriend's staff. They need more time to set up the battle projections. That works in our favor. Sending a message to all attendees now, giving them an additional twenty minutes for set-up. I'm in transit. But, I need Michael for the exit."
Marcus whimpered. "Do you really need him?" He knew Garibaldi would never let him live it down, especially now that the Chief knew everything.
"Marcus, he's GROPO, and Station Chief," Susan said as she ran.
The poor Ranger groaned in acknowledgement. "Comm go Daffy," Marcus resignedly authorized, adding the secondary call.
Ivanova and Marcus then explained the situation and got an irate Garibaldi's help. Although, the Chief promised Marcus a lecture on the etiquette of dating that he wouldn't soon forget. There would be an impromptu security sweep, computer generated of course, of the VIP sector when they needed to leave. Thank God for Security Chiefs who could hack their own systems! There also was a service shaft from Neroon's chambers to a side service corridor. They'd be in play when he and Ivanova got there. Then, they'd go to "Phase Two" of what was quickly becoming the "Master Plan".
Meanwhile, Martag had gone into the bathing facilities while the exit strategy was being planned. He came out with wet cloths and some kind of cologne bottle. Once the planning ended, he came over to the bed.
"Here, clean up as best you can under there. I know nothing short of the entire Shadow fleet would get you out of under there with me here. But, felisil, most of the scent of last night's activities must be gone before you leave these chambers," Martag said as kindly as possible.
The cologne bottle actually contained Neroon's preferred cleansing astringent. Marcus knew he'd pay with a week of dry and itchy skin for this, but it would do the trick. Marcus's humiliation and shame knew no bounds as he did as instructed. Oh Valen, every being with any decent scent reception would be able to figure out what happened! What had he done to deserve this?
Just as Marcus finished cleaning up, Ivanova and Garibaldi arrived. If looks could kill, Neroon would be subatomic particles. Marcus had never seen those two so angry before!
"Don't worry, sector's already clear, no one saw us coming. Here, I grabbed some deodorant, mouth wash and a brush on my way here," Garibaldi said as he handed over a shaving kit. "There's some muscle analgesic in there too. Didn't have anything strong, so I hope Don Juan over there didn't go all out," he finished while shooting another murderous look at Neroon.
Oh, God! Did Michael just…? Marcus choked. Please, please let a hole in the universe open up and swallow him!
"Here Marcus, I got your stuff. And, I'm telling you, it took everything I had not to get caught! You owe me, bratko!" Ivanova added.
As Marcus dove back under his makeshift tent in order to dress, (Bugger! Forgot about that! Well, it wasn't the first time he'd gone commando.), the Shai Alyt began to defend his soul mate's honor as best as possible under these circumstances. Oh, Valen! The Warrior had never been so embarrassed in his life!
"Mr. Garibaldi, Commander, please, do you not see how this is affecting Marcus? If it is your place to know, we did not consummate our - What is the Standard word? - our betrothal last evening. Please stop injuring my Zha'aia's feelings over this. If you must blame someone for this mess, blame me. Had I acted with honor, I would have let our courtship progress at the proper pace."
"I see," Garibaldi growled out as he shot the Minbari another death ray glare. "Well Neroon, I've got to say, YOU'RE THE FASTEST DAMNED SON OF A BITCH THIS SIDE OF THE RIM!" roared a now severely pissed-off Garibaldi. "Asking for a first date, you said yesterday. Engaged, you say today. If this is some Minbari shotgun wedding, you better bet I'll be there with my plasma rifle! I might call Marcus my personal P.I.T.A., but I'm the closest damn thing that he's got to a father in this place! You hurt him, and I'll roast your Minbari ass over a slow fire, ALIVE!"
"After I've ripped your balls off and force-fed them to you!" added an equally pissed-off Ivanova.
Neroon winced. Actually winced. The Commander was so much more frightening than the raging Garibaldi. Somehow, he knew that this Human Woman Warrior would be able to accomplish the task. Dear Valen! Why hadn't EarthForce just sent her and her tribeswomen to the front and ended the war in one salvo?
"Um, meeting ETA thirteen minutes and counting. Neroon, ma'fela, can I barrow some socks?" Martag already had them out as Marcus emerged. "Thank you, Martag. The exit is needed now. Please threaten my fiancé's manhood later. Boots now, please. Thank you again, Martag," Marcus said as the Warrior again handed over the requested items.
"Marcus, get your boots buckled while I get your hair taken care of," Ivanova said, now temporarily distracted from contemplating how to best space Neroon without restarting the Earth-Minbari War.
Marcus got his boots on as Susan quickly brushed out his hair. At the same time Garibaldi accessed the service shaft. When he was as presentable as possible, Marcus stood up and pulled on his cloak.
"Get that kiester moving, Cole. Follow the outlined grid plan. It'll get you to the maintenance office right next to the Council Chambers. You should arrive ten minutes before us, and from the opposite direction. Don't worry about being caught coming out, I've got Zack on the lookout. He'll cover your six. We'll get there five minutes late with the Grand Pooba here reaming Susan and me out over the security sweep. NOW GO!" Garibaldi ordered.
Marcus ran. He followed the map without a flaw. Having a photographic and spatially adept memory had its perks. He came to the maintenance access panel in seven minutes. Being a sprint champion in his student days didn't hurt either. He pulled at the panel and slipped through.
As he opened the office door, Garibaldi's 2IC called out, "That you Cole?"
"Who else would it bloody be?" Marcus grumbled.
"Corridor's clear. Come on out," answered Zack Allen.
As soon Marcus came through the door Allen hit him with a spray of cologne. "What the bloody hell was that for?" Marcus hissed out.
"Scent markers, you idiot!" answered Allen in a voice that was just as angry.
"Bloody, buggering hell! Does all of Security know?" fumed Marcus as they walked down the corridor.
"No. And the boss didn't say anything either. He was muttering about castrating the Minbari Grand Pooba on his way out, so I kinda put two and two together. Your secret's safe. But Jesus Cole, can you stop trying to restart the damned War?" Allen finished as they approached and entered the Council Chambers.
Right on cue! Neroon, his Chief Aide, Susan, and Michael came in. Ooh, they all deserved Academy Awards! Neroon was laying on the "Pissed-off Shai Alyt" but good. Ivanova was doing the "Placating, but Really Want to Space the Bastard" act. And Michael just kept grinding his teeth with his gun hand twitching all the while. Marcus took another look at Michael. Um, then again, maybe the Chief wasn't acting.
Then Neroon's and Marcus's eyes met, and held just for a moment. It was enough. Two of Neroon's junior aides had caught it. The gossip train was already off at their table. The stage was set for the second part of the plan. Everyone took his or her seats. The session began. And it was a drawn-out, nitpicking, nightmare of a lulu. Marcus had been so humiliatingly dragged out Neroon's bed for this!?
When the torture finally ended everyone, including Sheridan, breathed a sigh of relief. Each of the delegates began to pick up to leave. Neroon then cleared his throat and stood up. There was a collective groan. No one wanted this thing to restart.
"Forgive me for taking up more of this assembly's time but I have some news of a more personal nature to share," Neroon said as he walked over to Marcus.
Show time! Valen, he hoped that he could give as good a performance as Susan! Marcus gave a Neroon very convincing shy smile and stood up beside him.
"Last evening, after speaking to the person who is acting as Anla'Shok Cole's surrogate father in this endeavor, I asked Marcus for his permission to court him, with the final intent being our bonding," Neroon turned to Marcus, and in full view of their audience, lightly brushed his outer wrist. "Marcus has accepted my suit."
Marcus ducked his head and blushed. Jeff and Jesus! He hoped that he was pulling this off.
There were gasps of surprise from the audience, and knowing smirks from Neroon's aides, who thought they had "figured" it out so "quickly". Susan just looked smug. Sheridan and Delenn looked stunned, but quickly recovered. The rest of the War Council could be knocked over with feathers. Really, Londo needed to have that back molar looked at!
Neroon continued when the din died down. "Chief Garibaldi has explained that in Human terms this represents a betrothal. So, there will be a – a, an -- what was the term again, Mr. Garibaldi?"
The Chief stood up, acting for all the world like a proud papa. "It's called an "engagement dinner". It is an old Earth tradition where the betrothal of the young couple is celebrated. The event will be held at Fresh Aire at 2000 hrs this evening. You are all invited. Please come. Commander Ivanova has worked very hard for quite some time on it (Susan took a bow, still looking smug and now very pleased with herself.), well since the boys (Neroon's cheek twitched at being called a boy) starting corresponding really. You all know how women are. I'm sure it will be the social event of the decade!"
Marcus's heart stopped. Whoa! Fresh Aire! What the fuck! How much was this going to cost? And WHO was this going to cost? Geribaldi winked in his direction. Oh, yeah. Forgot that "la famiglia" had major stock in the chain.
When the crowd recovered, there were congratulations and well wishes coming from all around. Yes, everyone would be there. Of course, how could they miss this? Then the haranguing of Susan and Michael began. No one dared approach the newly betrothed couple. The Shai Alyt had gone into overprotective mode of his "shy young Ranger".
Fresh Aire, how could Susan arrange something on such short notice? Not short? Ah, a standing reservation that she called in when the right day was announced. Had been planning it since Marcus got out of medlab after the den'shah? Really? No, no they hadn't seen the way Neroon looked at him when he had left. The Shai Alyt had sent Marcus what? He sent him roses, real life Earth roses? One for each day he spent in recovery, along with crystals of tee'lah (Minbari folk poetry). Oh, how romantic! Ooh, were those two ever laying it on thick! Could they even keep this mess straight?
Did Delenn or the Captain know of the budding romance? No! Really? And on and on it went. Through all this, Neroon and Marcus had been quietly and unobtrusively edging their way to the doors. As soon as it looked clear, they were about to leave. That's when the severely pissed-off Chief of Security finally got his revenge.
"Neroon!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. That got everyone's attention! Marcus cringed visibly. "If I told you once, I told you a thousand times. Marcus is a sworn promise keeper. That means, you randy bastard, you don't go anywhere without a chaperone! DON'T GLOWER AT ME LIKE THAT! I saw you reaching for Marcus's hand! His ungloved hand no less! And don't you be tryin' that again! What, you want me to call Great Aunt..."
And so it began!
The End