"Hey, fucko, get your ass back to work. These boxes aren't going to lift themselves." She grunts over one of her own as she carries it into the storage shed. Inventory management's a bitch even before it's working overtime with a co-worker she'd hate to death if she could.
Seriously, вы? What did she do to deserve being alone with that fuck?
...Yeah, no, don't answer that question. It's rhetorical, dumbass.
She returns to her caustic mumbling as she carries more heavy crates in. "Can't believe Boss paired me with вы, the hell's wrong with—" She shuts up at the click of a lock,
slowly turns around to see that her tail's pushed the door shut,
with the only key being outside,
and the only other person on shift, вы, being inside the shed,
and the next shift not arriving until tomorrow morning.
"...Fuck."
