Martie enters the apartment and closes the door behind her.
"I hate my job. It’s literally the worst” she groans as her bag falls to the ground with a thud. She walks over to the counter, picks up a pile of mail and begins thumbing through it, wholly disinterested. ”They just expect me to do so much and yet they pay me so little. Like, I just need a break, y’know what I mean, Boris?”
A small Tabby cat, half-asleep, looks up at Martie, who is glaring back at him disapprovingly.
"Ugh. Never mind. You wouldn’t understand the pressures of middle-class employment," she tiredly rebukes, tossing the stack of unopened envelopes back down on the counter- to be ignored for a few more days. "You dropped out of college before the first semester was even over. You’ve been staying on my couch for years now.”
"Now you shut the fuck up and listen here," the cat cuts back. "I’ve got 9 lives to get this shit right. So you can bet your sorry pair of A-cups that I’ll be spending the first 8 of them licking myself where my junk used to be until I fall asleep."
"You’re a terrible roommate, Boris."