Mark came home from the hospital and went straight to the pool, where he spent a good four hours fighting down nerves and incessant cravings. He'd been so close. If only he hadn't wussed out... Finally exhaustion won out over anxiety and he slept soundly through the remainder of the night.
With morning he confronted the ruin of his first ever legally acquired shirt and with some help from SARAH ordered a replacement, and got the same thing in dark blue and green while he was there. Mark decided he could get used to shopping online if he kept checking out without somebody trying to kill him.
Mark dressed for a long, therapeutic run in his black running shorts and one of the two zip up jerseys he'd bought but never had a chance to wear yet before he remembered one of the things that had been bugging him last night. He zipped his jersey all the way up the neck and did a few quick stretches while SARAH talked him through a tutorial on how to send video mail. The jersey material seemed a little floppy and Mark considered changing into the tank top as the tutorial finished.
A few false starts later, Mark looked at a live image of himself on the screen and decided to stick with the jersey. He thought he looked neat in it, clean. Nothing like a burned out stoner that dined in dumpsters. Mark tagged the button to start recording.
"Kelly, hi! I'm not sure when we'll see each other today, so I thought I'd better send something before I forgot again. You know that guy you're calling in to find the one that beat me up last night? I-I don't feel right about you paying for that. I'm pretty sure I can cover it and if I can't, I want to pay you back for it. Uh...thanks!" Mark signed off awkwardly.
Mark saw he had a message and at the same time remembered the other thing he forgot last night. His long-legged swimsuit needed a good soaking. He picked up the damp black mound from the floor where he dropped and sniffed the growing smell with disgust.
Going to be the briefs for a while. Mark didn't mind having to wear the briefer suit, but he felt bad about treating the other so poorly. He always took better care of his stuff than that.
By the time the spedy elite satisfied himself he'd done all he could for the swimsuit and left it to soak in his sink it was nearly noon and he had water all over his jersey. Mark rolled his eyes and changed into his other jersey, this one black on white. Leaving it unzipped for the moment he went to view the new message, from Tommy.
“Hey buddy sorry I couldn’t make out to see you last night, I had to take care of Star, sorry about that though, but I got a little surprise for you!” A file downloads to Mark’s desktop, and then opens showing video footage from a fir-person view of an Asian assailant beating the crap out of whoever is behind the camera. The video freezes and the video enhances giving him a good look at the man’s face.
Good, Tommy took care of Star and...THAT'S HIM! Mark made a nasty gesture at the image that would have gotten him shot not too long ago.
"Me and my friends are going to take you apart!" he hissed becoming angrier as he realized he was watching Star being taken apart, cut off by his door bursting open. Mark was on his feet in a blur before he recognized Star.
“Hey Mark, sorry I couldn’t help more then I could. That assassin was better then me, and he as Tommy put it, beat the living crap out of me. I apologize for failing you. Protecting Tommy’s friends is one of my Prime Directives.”
"STAR! You're ok! I just heard from Tommy," without a thought Mark rushed Star and hugged her tightly.
"I just saw that guy beating you up. Why were you still there? You should have been gone." Mark suddenly realized what he was doing, pressed up against Star with his chest half bare and wearing shorts that didn't make it halfway down to his knees and let go abruptly, turning red.
"Oh geez, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" Mark babbled helplessly, thankful for the moment he'd dressed out for running instead of swimming, even if the nylon in his shorts wasn't any thicker than his swimsuits. At least he was a little further from being completely naked while rubbing all over her like some kind of hornball.