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[needlebomb]

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[needlebomb]

[ Tate might be speaking literally, rather than figuratively, thanks to his ghost powers... but Marcus takes that comment metaphorically, nodding as if it makes sense to him, however he's choosing to interpret it. His eyes flicker over Tate's wrist and he holds back any comment he might want to make, opting to instead smile sardonically and focus on the second half of their conversation. ]

I doubt it. The guy who gave me this one likes to fuck dogs.

[ Marcus clicks his tongue, cocking his thumb to the scar covering his eye before returning to washing Tate's back. One clean cut with a nice, long blade gave him that one. He's not sure what Tate means by a run for your money, exactly, but Marcus thinks his scars all tell some pretty dark stories. Between the suicide attempts, the needlebomb, the physical abuse... there's not really anything Tate's scars have on his, he thinks.

He finishes rinsing Tate's back, then steps selfishly back into the water, letting the heat run down his shoulders and flow down his spine. He stretches his arms, cracks his neck, then heads out from underneath the shower, searching out a towel and roughing his hair up with it when he finds it. He gets sick of Tate taking his time in the shower, apparently, because before too long, Marcus is hooking the towel around Tate's neck and trying to tug him inside. ]

C'mon. It's cold. I wanna go back to bed.

[confiscated]

I like that one.

[Tate says after turning back around, half roped into leaving the flow of water by Marcus' needy demands. All of the soap's run off him after a quick wash, but Tate could've stood in there longer - and would've, if alone. He still has a dull ache of tiredness somewhere deep in his bones that'll take more than one night's sleep to banish but he does feel a great deal better than he did some twelve hours beforehand. He turns off the water taps with a squeak of the dials and rolls his eyes but follows Marcus, half-smile on his lips.

Pinching away the towel from Marcus' grip, Tate will use it to tousle his hair and cause the once stuck-down curls to bounce up again. The sliding door was left ajar and Tate'll head back through it, wet footprints left on the wood floor as he slowly makes his way to the stairs. He can't really make a lot of commentary about fucking dogs considering he's had a knot in his jaw but... he doesn't like knowing someone gave Marcus the scar, at least not now that they're... something.]

I like your scars, actually. All of them.

[One foot on the stairs, he nods for Marcus to head up first - he'll follow behind, if only to see if he'll let him see his ass.]