"Hey." Marcus is laughing, grabbing at and inspecting the rose. "You're serious. You seriously brought me a rose." He shakes his head. Notes the sticker, unoffended; relieved, in fact. He'd expect nothing less. "Christ, I reckon I'm touched. Vodka's in my bag down there." He gestures to a beaten-up rucksack at the foot of the bed, clapping his sketchbook closed and putting down his pencil. "Couple of cans of diet Coke in there too, cos the last time I drank vodka neat I nearly died. That could just be my lifestyle, though."