[ He watches that gesture between them, her kiss to Julius' hand, knowing well that they're private people, that even witnessing subtle tokens of physical affection like that is a step into a shared sort of intimacy. Marcus might imagine that the twinge of feeling that comes with it is something like Petrana had experienced, on the island.

The one identified as not unpleasant.

If, they say. If he wanted them both. If it would be something they'd be pleased to have.

The conversation tips towards him, and there is a pause as Marcus considers what to say. His instinct, oddly, is to remain silent, twisting the obsidian ring on his hand in a rare fidget, as if he is participating in all of this at some strange remove, but this impulse is dismissed. It is not that he has nothing to say so much as doing so while sitting politely over his cooling tea feels—

There's a twinge of a smile, more to himself than anything else. ]

You recall, [ to Petrana ] in the forest. Before I left you to Silver. [ It's all well and good to speak of the island, the blissful union they'd enjoyed, the resolution Petrana made to herself; the darker mirror of it seems like dangerous territory, but not without meaning, here and now, and so. He pushes past the discomfort, determined. ] You spoke of my returning to the Venatori as though there were the option to go with you. Had you asked it of me, I would have. I'd have gone anywhere you wished me to.

[ He goes and takes her other hand in his own. ]

If [ that word ] we are to build something—the three of us—then begin it.

[ And if she hesitates for more than a second over what that might mean, Marcus assists in leaning past the table to kiss her gently. ]