[centre][b][i]"You hun'...I'm here for you."[/i][/b][/centre]

	Those words made him look up after the footsteps moved throughout the room, making their way over to the [b]AM-5[/b] suit cupboard. As he looked up, the informal southern accent flickered a hint of memory, and not one from long ago. He saw the face that he barely recognised at first, but the strange smile, the accent and the odd choice in vocabulary gave an immediate snap of light within his mind. Marcus thought, back to the bar table. It was about 3 minutes before everyone were to perish, and whatever she had done to gotten out of it must've been incredible. It was her, the woman who was beside him at the counter. The napkin must've given the correct details, and that she was clearly mad enough to follow in such dangerous territory. For some fucking reason, for someone who had literally come out of some of the most traumatising massacres of the [i]Modern-Age[/i], since recent purges like the 52nd Detachment's Protest Shooting, and still willing to embark on a mission, for reasons unknown to Marcus, to retrieve a man she'd literally came across once in a club...it seemed too good to be true. What if she was captured, and made to do this to see if he made any movements. Most of the camera's were in a maintenance state for the next hour or so, and that might've had something to do with everything going on now...His face slightly lit up as he raised to his feet slowly, suddenly beginning to tower over the oddly dressed individual.

[color=6ecff6][b]"Y-you....It's....It is you! F-from the Bar! The one I...gave the warning to..."[/b][/color] He trailed off when mentioning the Nexus Club shooting. [color=6ecff6][b]"I...I can't believe this...U-uhhh...L-Lemme get my stuff!"[/b][/color] He quickly began to rush around the room, seeming to be getting straight into this situation ever-so quickly. Marcus would hesitate as he rushed around his [i]Cell[/i], grabbing kit after kit, bringing certain items. Every so often, he'd look up at the camera in the corner of the main room, making sure it was still off for repairs in the event of being seen. This was idiotic and absolutely mad, this mission...Marcus walked up to the casing, moving in the way of the woman to dial in a keypad. The code went in: [b]5-3-5-1-8-3[/b]. As he stood back, it slid open and revealed the suit fully. There were small dents in certain areas, and it seemed a bit cold from the timespan between his last wearing-event and now. He began to pull the levers and push the buttons from the outside of the suit as he talked slightly, trying to not make everything, as humorous and hesitant as Marcus looked, ever-so awkward and silent. [color=6ecff6][b]"Y-you...seemed interested in the AM-5, I-I saw..."[/b][/color] He would stutter. [color=6ecff6][b]"Advanced Movement Skeletal Attire...M-Mark 5, B-before you ask...Standard outfitting from the Fl-"[/b][/color] He stopped for the minute. Marcus still wasn't sure if she was trustable, or let alone even rescuing him. It would be for the best to save the information about himself for a time when he really knew what he was getting into, and whether she was just going to use him for whatever he was. The suit chest, legs and arms opened up into a half-split down the chassis, and allowed him to step inside, after hesitantly rechecking the camera again. Once he was comfortably inside the open suit, he pressed the heel of his foot down and clenched the right fist, signalling to the compartments that it was ready to close. Tightly, it secured itself around the frame of the man, him pulling his hair out of some of the compartments after it shut. The suit was now unlocked and free to move. Marcus made his way over to the shelf, finding his damaged helmet where it was. He held it for a few moments, and looked at her once again. He made his way over and nervously held out his shaking hand from within the armour. [color=6ecff6][b]"M-Marcus Brenada, a-and you are?"[/b][/color]