[center][h2]Marcus Leon[/h2][/center]

Table tops layered with trays of the most delicious food and drinks lined the walls of Common Room, delicacies capable of making one's mouth water: a whole roast deer with sprigs of rosemary threaded through its antlers and stuffed with bacon and rye bread, marinated Glenloth chicken, grilled trout with lemon, smoked sausages and a pineapple glazed ham, mounds of fragrant wild rice, potatoes and diced pumpkin smeared with butter and spices baked on hot stones, countless cheeses that went with baskets of crackers and bread rolls shaped as seashells, and all sorts of varieties of salads and side dishes. Huge platters of fowl stuffed with savoury fruit and nuts. Ocean creatures drizzled in sauces or begging to be dipped in spicy concoctions. Countless vegetables, sweets, waterfalls of juice, and streams of milk that called to early morning onlookers.

To Marcus, it was all a fairy tale, a wonder so beyond comprehension that left him awestruck. Before he knew it, he had dug into the rich food with ravenous hunger, indulging himself to the point of busting, eating more than he'd thought possible. He shoved toast, eggs, pancakes, sausage, bacon, and fried potatoes into his gaping mouth, cramming it in thick and fast, consuming a meal that had taken hours to prepare and cook in a matter of minutes like some kind of vacuum cleaner. Then, showing no signs of embarrassment he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his red windbreaker and belched - much to the dismay of those seated nearby. 

Reveling in the afterglows of his morning feast, Marcus slumped comfortably in his plush armchair. Back home, food in such abundance wasn't a commodity, but a jewel to be horded and enjoyed. As was such, anytime an occasion presented him with food such as today, he wasted no time horking down as much as he could from morning till evening. A bad habit no less, but he just couldn't help himself, that coupled with the distraction it provided him on such a day as today, made for a perfect scapegoat to vent on.

After arriving on one of the first trucks to reach Marchand, Marcus wasted no time examining architecture and exploring the grounds, acts as he was known for back home. It was as if the aroma of free food bogged down the Nigerian's free spirit, and like a net, dragged him into it's alluring embrace of deliciousness.

Marcus was addicted. He knew it. And he didn't care.

Rather that frock on his own nature, Marcus opted to change the subject and actually pay attention to the newcomers. Not to far away, a rather petite girl he was sure he shared the same truck with elegantly nibbled on a stack of pancakes. 

[i]A woman should eat like she means it! Not like a mouse.[/i] Marcus mused. Culture back home and culture around the world differed quite a lot. It was off putting yet intriguing.

Next his eyes landed on a rather large boy who's head seemed devoid of hair, yet body made up for in pure muscle mass. His eyes seemed locked onto the petite girl's form for a time before he made his move towards her location. 

[i]Rather fast for a guy of his size.[/i] Marcus observed. 

Finally he noticed a red-headed young man of rather average build veer off from the course the brawny one took. Instead he savored the food on his after first attempting to scarf it down.

[i]Smart man. A leader by example.[/i]

Marcus proceeded to grab himself another plate.