Be Gay, Do Crimes: Ros Vs Everything, Apparently

In which Ros feels like Anakin betraying the Jedi except she has the high ground

"Where's your sister?"

Marcus turned to find Gerald and three court boys bearing down on him. He didn't know why they were bothering. He'd never sent them to Ros before, and it wasn't likely that he was going to tell them where she was now. Unless they were operating under the assumption that he'd turned against Rosalind, given the revelation she was a Never.

Idiots.

"Don't know," he said coolly. "Why?"

"The press conference starts in fifteen minutes," Gerald said impatiently. "You must have some idea."

"Well then, even if I did, she wouldn't have time to talk to you." He did know where Ros was, obviously. She was in the parlour behind him. Not that he was going to tell them that.

He looked between the four chiselled faces, all scowling at him, and suppressed a sigh. Was this going to be his experience at Good, too? At least there none of them would be pursuing his Evil sister. Probably. But it was more likely that they'd just have to come up with more creative reasons to bully him.

"Gerald told us before it was announced. We think there's been a mistake," one of the court boys spoke up.

"The School Master doesn't make mistakes," Marcus dismissed.

"Doesn't she?" Gerald shot him a disdainful glance.

Marcus nearly snorted. He'd have to try harder than that if he wanted to upset him. Implying he wasn't Everboy material. He'd never heard that one before.

"I don't think so."

Gerald stared suspiciously at the door. "She's in there. She was with you, wasn't she?"

"Can you leave?" Said Marcus, trying to sound bored. "I'm rather busy at the moment." He had been pitching an extremely unsuccessful campaign against Rosalind's suitors for a very long time. Generally, he was ignored, and Rosalind, Tedros, or someone who was generally less pathetic than Marcus sent them packing. It was frustrating. He'd have much preferred to have been able to do it himself, seeing as they were such a plague on Ros--

"Tell us," hissed Gerald.

Having said that, Marcus was certainly regretting the absence of Alex right now. Having someone around who was magically trained, over six foot, and carried around a spear at all times tended to make suitors steer clear of Rosalind. But he wasn't Alex; he was Marcus, and he could tell they were getting impatient.

He wasn't fool enough to think he could physically stop them, even if he wanted to. And there were no guards nearby, so...

So, unfortunately, the only way was to let Rosalind know, somehow.

"Excuse me," He approached them as if he was going to shove past them--

Gerald grabbed him and shoved him back against the door, which rattled against the frame. "Tell me!"

The three court boys cringed. Even they knew that physically attacking Marcus was a no-go. He might have been a loser, but he was still the Prince.

"Er, Gerald--" began one, but Gerald ignored him.

"I have the right to talk to her! I'm convinced she's been corrupted!"

Marcus would have laughed, had his windpipe not been in considerable distress from the way Gerald was gripping his collar. He struggled as Gerald lifted him up--

Tedros opened the door.

Gerald dropped Marcus and ran. The three court boys followed him, too visibly complicit to get away with excuses.