Re: log; marina & russ
Frustration rode her hands into the air, claws curling against the blackout blur of night stars, like she'd strangle God if she could. Somehow, Marina kept from screaming. "Sorry I'm fresh out of options on safe, sane people to babysit. This isn't Vegas, I don't know anybody. I didn't have a choice, I couldn't take him with me to work. What the hell was I supposed to do?"
Marina stared at Russ, awaiting more fucking irony to come pouring out of him. Concern was about as ill-fitting on Russ as a goddamn dress. It's three in the morning.. and Marina huffed hair out of her eyes, scoffing in the process of lighting a cigarette. Jesus fucking Cristo. He was scared and her eyes bled wounded worry through the smoke before she shook her head. "Oh, fuck you." Because that hurt. How dare he.
She seemed suddenly fed up and completely done with being made to feel like she was getting nominated for Worst Mother of the Year. "Next time I'll find a babysitter, don't worry about it."