Mark's eyes narrowed, his eyes burning into the side of the Gentleman's head. He relaxed, smiling, and politely stepped aside. "Well, I suppose not everyone can be fortunate to be chosen. Come on Caster, gentlemen, lets step into the spectator's wing." He, his guards, and the fiesty wife stepped away from the totems, with much grumbling from her. Mark's smile never faltered. He knew she didn't appreciate him referring to her by her husband's Class, but the small deception was necessary. Given how isolated and hidden he intended to remain for the rest of the tournament, his opponent's would likely latch on to whatever he fed them like it was gospel truth, having nothing else to go on.