Markus often felt like a pariah, unable to relate even to other mercs. Hunted by the Terran government, the people he once fought and nearly died for, estranged from his family, and unable to keep a partner because they either died, betrayed him, or were fed up with his ways. Yet miraculously, he felt a kinship with his fellow hunters in room D17 in [i]The Gods Eye[/i] this night. Because like them, he was not averse to hot women, and uniquely, especially not hot women actively saving his life.  

When the woman had come up on stage, sauntering forward in her voluminous dress, Markus had noticed her eyes darting around the room, even landing on him for a brief moment. He had initially assumed she was scanning the room to gauge if the crowd was rowdy enough to be a danger to her, but now he realized he had misread her. She had a good voice, but Markus was too on edge to really appreciate her singing, or even her beauty after a long glance, too preoccupied with his usual suspicions of keeping an eye on the room. Once he had been invited for a job with a dive gang named the Hearkeners only to realize they had been locked in with gas set on them. Markus had escaped with a few of them, only realizing later the job had been a lure to kill the entire gang by a group of enforcers acting under a loose interpretation of the law. 

But he still couldn't see all angles, and the singer whom he had delegated to the background, had leaped over the crowd of mutants and toughs and had beaten a would-be assassin with a practiced skill. He might have done it a bit differently, but then again he had never taken down an assassin with a mic-stand in a dress, so he reminded himself he shouldn't judge. 

The crowd had gathered around, watching her give the crowd a bow, and then shaking her head as she lifted herself up to get any potential debris from the shattered armor out of her thick locks. Markus noticed a small pistol, carefully concealed, strapped to the small of her back. The tension in the room was palpable, more than a few eyes turning to Markus when he stood up right behind her, and with a sudden movement, took his jacket off, revealing his Secare Saber, a blade that could cut through the plate of an armored transport when activate. 

Instead, he gently placed his jacket on her (deceptively) slender shoulders, causing her to meet his eyes. 

"Thanks," He said simply. "I'd offer to buy you a drink, but they're free here. Maybe after?" 

"I might be free," She replied. 

Markus took that for what it was, a subtle (albeit coy) acceptance of partnering up. If they were about to become adversaries, there would be no drinks, would there? He pulled a chair out for her to sit in.

The crowd murmured, there were even growls from some of the more bestial mutants. Markus was certain if they caught the nuance of the statement, there would be a riot. The towering Ogros stepped through the crowd, and leaned down to poke the prone body of the fallen bounty hunter. Its body was enormous, covered in thick skin like leather and a wide face that spoke of limited intelligence. "Can I has?" it asked Jocasta slowly, apparently believing her kill meant she owned the corpse now. 

"Knock yourself out." She said, turning to take the seat offered to her. 

"Huergh?" It grumbled, clearly confused by the turn of phrase. 

"It means yes, ya moron." A hardened mercenary remarked, his 6-gauge combat shotgun ready in case the Ogros took offense to his insult. 

Markus returned to his seat, glancing at a diminutive morlock that had almost snagged it for himself while the merc was away. The short mutant blanched and lopped back into the crowd, unwilling to remain under his gaze for too long. He took his seat again and grabbed his drink. Right now, any of the hunters that were still watching likely thought the two of them were about to flirt, both being relatively good looking (especially for this crowd) but that was the furthest thing from his mind. Whoever she was, she wasn't a singer. Well, not one hired for here, anyway. Which meant she was skilled in infiltration and subterfuge. She handled herself relatively well in close combat, and she was well informed. All good traits to have in a partner for a job as lucrative as this was likely to be. There were a few bounty hunters here that might be able to replicate those skills, but most were blunt instruments through and through, and the fact she had saved his life meant he trusted her more than the bounty hunters that were likely to shoot him in the back. 

Plus, he had to admit, he was intrigued on how she knew what to look for and why she saved him. Was the bounty hunter a plant? Was this woman secretly working for the UNSG? Probably not, but even if she was an agent for the latter, he preferred to have his enemy in his sights than somewhere in the shadows. And if she [i]was[/i] just a beautiful woman and a hunter like him, then he really did owe her for saving his skin.