Re: Quicklog: Marina S & Shane A
[He took the teacup and tipped back the vodka in one, chaser-less swallow, paper-thin china making a tinny, bony sound against his bottom teeth where filigree smacked enamel. The clear alcohol stung with some citrus-infused tea, but Shane didn't fucking blink, yeah? He didn't fucking care about juiceboxes or accoutrements. The tree was laden down in front of them with enough delicate baubles and whatever the fuck.
He sniffed as he wrapped, his cigarette mostly ash, only looking up when Marina finally spoke.] Relative to fucking what?