Knight and day

[Marcus Knight]

Sulkily nursing his phone in a corner of the room, Marcus irritably cast a scornful glance over the members of the group that were assembled. He didn't like them. Any of them. He couldn't even say why, except that he had the feeling they all undervalued his skills and looked down on him--simply because he was a human. Well, he didn't need 'powers' like these special snowflakes--he was naturally good at what he did.

They had to acknowledge that, if nothing else. That was the reason he was here, wasn't it?

And yet, it still pissed him off (and it pissed him off a lot) that none of them respected him. Half of them were like a hundred years old, he'd bet. These old-timers didn't get along with technology. Probably didn't even know how to get on the internet. Or even know what the internet was.

Scoffing to himself, he glanced down at his phone--not his work phone, but his personal one--and proceeded to ignore them. Marcus wasn't oblivious, of course, to Hazleton's supernatural population. In fact, his best friend was a vampire and Marcus was his ghoul. So he'd have to be pretty damn stupid not to know that ghosties and beasties and things that went bump in the night co-existed alongside the human population.

Too bad none of them had useful powers, like teleportation. He prodded at the home screen button, bringing the screen to life, and fired off a text that was every bit sulky and bad-tempered as his expression indicated.

"This meeting is going to take FOREVER! It hasn't even started! They're just wasting my GD time."

A few moments later, somebody's phone went off with an obnoxious tinkle. Marcus raised his head and glared. Oh, it was that guy. His superior expression made Marcus want to punch him in the face every time he caught sight of it. It was like the guy seriously thought he was just better than everybody else. Marcus hated that--because he personally thought that he was better than everybody else. There couldn't be two people who were 'the best,' after all.

"Hmph."

"That dumb jerk's here too. Babe... is it wrong to want to just punch a guy in the face?"

The idiot's phone went off again and huffily, with a lot of noise and violent movement to indicate how irritated he was by that dumb sound, Marcus turned away. He was curled up in a squishy armchair, and turned his back to the others, facing the chair's back. Marcus didn't want to see them anyway. There was that stupid superior cocky bastard, some dumb kid, some old guy who looked like an axe murderer, and their leader, currently not in the room with them. It was kind of a rag-tag group and Marcus didn't know how they managed to work together, when it seemed like everybody was an asshole. (Or maybe it just seemed that way to him.)

He cradled the phone to his chest, reading the response from his boyfriend. A little smile tugged at the corners of his lips, as it always did when they talked. Marcus didn't know what he'd do without his baby. It was like they'd known each other forever. The instant they got in touch, everything clicked into place. He wouldn't have said that he was desperately lonely before, but it was nice to have someone to talk with (or to complain to). It was nice to get that good-morning text, or a sweet good-night text. They were probably what people considered sickening but Marcus enjoyed all of the sweet little nothings and the compliments (some of them outrageous) and the flirting.

Feeling some kind of heated death glare on his back, Marcus turned his head. Sure enough, that jerk was glaring at him. He narrowed his eyes and glared right back, holding it for long moments. If anybody else noticed, they didn't let on and after a while, Marcus went right back to ignoring all of them.

God, he wished this job would end already! Then he could pocket the money and get himself out to meet his lover in person. He was just dying to meet up and if not for the distinct lack of funds--he'd spent most of his money upgrading his rig to keep up with the demands of his... ah... trade--Marcus would have been long gone by now. A soft, dispirited sigh slipped out as he rubbed at a smudge on the screen. He couldn't wait to get out of this hellhole.