It had been said of Marston more than once that he was born to win fights. Even as a young child, instead of backing down from anything, or running away, he'd turn and face the problem head on, regardless of if he was armed. He always acted like he was, and that was usually enough for others to consider him crazy, or to consider him trouble enough to leave him alone.
As he got older, the crazy stuck, and the rushing headlong into things without much forethought into it, but he learned along the way that some things were better off actually being prepared. It was why, even in something as mundane as a bonfire, he had his guns on him.
He laughed as well, patting Constantine on the shoulder while walking - careful and steady, but by no means slow - as he followed. "Might as well be sea legs. Ain't my fault the ground's decided to play at havin' a tide."
Once they got into the hotel, he was compelled to hush Constantine, chuckling still over the man's weave and totter. "Shh, shh. This way... I think." He stumbled and shuffled towards the main stairs, glaring over at the elevator, pointing at it and admonishing it, "No."
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As he got older, the crazy stuck, and the rushing headlong into things without much forethought into it, but he learned along the way that some things were better off actually being prepared. It was why, even in something as mundane as a bonfire, he had his guns on him.
He laughed as well, patting Constantine on the shoulder while walking - careful and steady, but by no means slow - as he followed. "Might as well be sea legs. Ain't my fault the ground's decided to play at havin' a tide."
Once they got into the hotel, he was compelled to hush Constantine, chuckling still over the man's weave and totter. "Shh, shh. This way... I think." He stumbled and shuffled towards the main stairs, glaring over at the elevator, pointing at it and admonishing it, "No."