Marina turns too quickly at the sound of Kyra's voice, vocal chords incapable of producing the happy brrrt sound that Gremlin does in greeting (and that she very overwhelmingly feels is the appropriate response right now) and instead lets out a slight yelp as she wobbles against the rink wall. There's a short scramble and when she rights herself, she pats her hands against her denim-clad legs as if this would somehow dispel the past few seconds from Kyra's memory.

Things with Kyra had always been an unpredictable push and pull, but this last week has been.. more straightforward. Marina had kept her distance, sort of. She'd found constant excuses to visit with Tobermory, in hopes of passing Kyra by, even if it was just to exchange awkward smiles, but had never pushed for anything more than that.

It's only her own unsteadiness on the wheels that keeps her apart from Kyra now.

"He would," she insists with a puff of pride, "if Daddy would have gotten him a rink. Sometimes Gino pulls him around on a skateboard."