Marcus Flint (marcusfingflint) wrote in impetuousrpg, @ 2011-10-08 00:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | char: katie bell, char: marcus flint |
WHO: Katie Bell and Marcus Flint
WHAT: I just...don't even know.
WHERE: Marcus's flat in Chelsea
WHEN: Late Saturday Night/Early Sunday Morning
RATING: High for language
STATUS: In progress.
Marcus didn't bother replying to Katie's most recent comments in the journals. He was finally home from drinking with Clint and he was fucking drunk and pissed and annoyed. This whole thing wasn't exactly because of Katie's blatant and public flirting with Davies, though that certainly didn't help. In fact, he was really still annoyed from their conversation prior to that. Where she'd essentially managed to blame him for everything going horribly wrong in her life. Because it was clearly his fault. And the fact that he didn't have time to continuously kiss her ass was also clearly 100% his fault. How dare he have a million other things to be worrying about at the time that weren't directly related to her bloody feelings. And yeah, he was being a bit dramatic and over the top, but she was being immature and fucking stupid with how she was acting too. So it wasn't like he was alone in being completely retarded about this whole thing.
He'd gotten home from drinks and the nanny had already put Sam to bed, thank Merlin. Marcus loved Sam dearly, but he just wasn't dealing well with the extra stress and responsibility that she brought along with her these days. He'd been careful and used protection all of these years so that he didn't have to have a kid to look out for, yet here he was, with a kid of his own. A particularly spoiled and bratty one who always seemed to get her way because she was too fucking cute for her own good. But she was asleep and that was nice. The Nanny was either also asleep in her room, or perhaps she'd gone out. Marcus wasn't sure and he didn't really fucking care. He'd grabbed his journal and realized very quickly what a mistake that had been, at which point he'd just poured himself even more to drink. But fuck, he was stressed. And while he'd already smoked more in the last two weeks than he probably had in the whole year prior to that, he couldn't help but grab another cigarette.
Drunkenly plopping down unceremoniously into one of the chairs of his living room, he lit up his cigarette. Normally, he only smoked a few times a week. And it was always outside so as not to make Sam be around it. But he just didn't fucking care right now. He'd make sure to magic the smell out of everything later. Not that big of a deal. Closing his journal and setting it aside, intent to not respond to Katie for the rest of the night, he took a long drag off of his cigarette before resting his head back against the couch. He was tired and stressed and had so much shite to do at the office the following morning that he barely even registered when his front door opened.