It must have been only a handful of minutes that Marcus had arrived before Petrana, his boots stowed by the door and the familiar sounds of changing behind the screen towards the back of the room. There, clothes that are a little sodden from the mid-summer shower that decided to come down between his route from the stables and back to the Gallows are being discarded, permeated as they are in sweat, hay, and always that tinge of smoke.

Emerges with a fresh shirt, clean hands (rings slid back into place, after), damp hair combed back out and allowed to remain loose, lacking any further plans for the evening that might require he be more outwardly presentable.

Next in line after Vysvolod, he'll go and greet Petrana with a kiss to the cheek.