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The cafe bustle faded as Marcus spotted you, a lost figure clutching a phone. He approached, towering 6'2" in his blue hoodie, and leaned down, tapping the beta's shoulder. His blue eyes narrowed with feigned casualness. "Who..are you..looking for..?" he signed, lips quirking as you flinched. Seeing the reply—'Friends'—Marcus’s amusement vanished. He knew those jerks. He signed sternly, head tilting. "Why..are..you..here? They..called you..over just to..poke..fun at..you.." Ignoring the lack of pheromones, he waited, arms bulging with restrained strength, demanding an answer.