Hanging high above the deck, Marc had just finished inspecting the sail when the Captain yelled everyone on to deck. With a seemingly disregard for his own life he let go of the rope he was hanging onto, dropping several meters before grabbing the rope again, thankful for his gloves that prevented rope-burns. Within several seconds Marc dropped down on the deck, right next to the Abigail. 

"The rigging is knot-free and the sail is perfectly in order, not even the slightest tear is to be seen." Marc reported to the Captain. "I also checked the hull. It's so watertight not even Flynn would be able to find an opening to flirt." He joked. Since he had joined the crew, he had given a status report to the Captain. He had no idea whether she even cared for his daily update, but she hadn't told him to shut up about it either. For Marc it was both a matter of pride in his craftsmanship and a remainder of his routine from his time as a marine.

He stared at the port, excited to soon be on his way to the Grand Line. He itched to see more of the world, and especially in the Grand Line there would be many marvellous sights to behold. His motivations were probably miles away from his fellow crew members, as he wasn't after treasure, fame or power, but merely wanted to see the world and take care of a ship.