Putting the multi-tool back in his pocket, Marcus takes a seat on Rust Mane's usual bench. The Metalflesh shifts forward and backward, then side to side. Feeling a bit restless while waiting for Fu, he had tried to fix the bench's wobbly leg. Letting out a sigh, he looks up and down the path for the approach of his Summer Brother, but always keeps the gate to the Trod within his line of sight.
Fix it