"Says the thirteen-year-old who keeps trying to trick me into getting him drunk," York shoots back breezily with a chuckle, leading him into the back room. She closes the door behind them, leaving it ajar just a few inches so she can still see out to the bar. She sets herself down in a chair, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, and nods to the other for Marco.

"All right, time to get the unpleasant part over with," she says with a sigh. She's not here to be anyone's parent, but man, she can't just not say anything. She likes Marco, okay? And she has a feeling she'd never hear the end of it from older Marco if she let the slightly more pint-sized version of him get out of this with at least a warning. "Look, I know I'm not your mom, and I don't wanna be, but I can't keep my mouth shut on this, so I'm just gonna get it all out at once for both our sakes." She leans forward and swipes her hand over the side of Marco's head -- less a smack and more of a tousle of his hair, more for the gesture than anything else. She's actually frowning for once. "Come on, Marco, what are you, crazy? I thought you had some sense in you, but I guess if you're trynna find a good way to get your ass killed, you've just about hit the jackpot."

She doesn't want Marco to get himself killed, or maimed, or any of the other bullshit that comes with merc territory. Hell, even York isn't willing to touch those guys with a ten-foot-pole yet.