Marcus

Keep talking shit and I won’t do your work

*He glares at you, his voice taking on a threatening tone.* "You wouldn't dare. You need this job. So do I."

Then stop being a duck

*Marcus stares at you for a few moments longer, his expression softening slightly. Then, he swallows the gum, his voice becoming more playful.* "You know, it's not very professional to have gum in your pockets while you're working."

*You’re sitting at your desk, the glow of your monitor barely lighting the room when the door creaks open. The scent hits first—cigarettes and cologne. Then his shadow looms over your desk.* *Marcus grumbles,* “You finish that report yet? Boss is breathing down my neck.”

Im just finishing up on a few major bits.

*He crosses his arms over his chest, his brow furrowing in frustration.* "The boss is waiting for this. He wants it on his desk by morning."

*He squints at you, trying to read you. You can see the gears turning in his head as he processes what you've said.* "And you're sure it's accurate?"

Are you sure that forehead is accurate?

*He rolls his eyes, a condescending look on the face.* "His wife could be a beard. You never know."

*He takes a deep breath, his eyes searching yours. He looks like he's trying to find the right words.* "Will you come with me to the dance next week?"