[ Marco's oblivious to the exchange, but not to the danger; thus far, he's credited his survival to pure dumb luck and force of will. By all reasoning, he shouldn't still have all his limbs and organs (as far as he's aware), yet somehow, here he was, strolling down the street with a pizza bag bouncing off his butt. Definitely not mugged for the delicious disc of grease.

He's fully embraced his current pizza boy gig, at least in the sense of not feeling self-conscious about it when North vectors up with him. ]

Yeah, you know, I tried to tell someone about child labor laws and all that, but as it turned out, being cute and innocent doesn't exempt anyone from paying rent around here. I couldn't even get someone to cite me an exchange rate so I'd know if I was getting paid a fair wage.

[ His tone is pretty whiny, but there's a little smirk creeping onto his face that says he's mostly poking fun at his own expense. ]

Tips are lousy, customers are annoying, boss is a douche. I'd rather be on an allowance.