☭o50| пустой
Click to viewThe door to the Russian capital's room is slightly ajar, but if you walk pass it you will get hit by the heavy smell of cigar smoke. Venturing into the man's room will prove fruitless, the lightly is terrible. Rather there isn't any light, he has all the lights out, and the only from of light passing in is through the partly drawn curtains. It's the dull sunlight from the mid-afternoon's sun. The ruby red carpeted floor is littered with empty vodka bottles and cigar butts, something that a visitor has to look out for.
Sitting at the edge of his bed, Dimitri is slumped over, vodka bottle in one hand, and cigar in another. He mumbles to himself in Russian, as smoke seeps out of his mouth. None of it makes sense what he is saying. It's just a very random sentence; this proves that Dimitri's mind really isn't right at the moment. He isn't right at the moment.
Taking a long swallow from his vodka bottle, savoring the taste. He doesn't know what to do with himself now. After taking out all his anger on Nebojsa the other day, he did the weirdest thing one can do. He took Jun's body back to the man's room in the Asian hall. He put some clean cloths on him and just laid there in the same bed with the dead man. Hoping that maybe once he wakes up from his slumber, it would all be a dream. But it wasn't, morning came, Jun was still lifeless like a porcelain doll.
So the whole day has been spent with Moscow drinking himself into a stupor. That has proven difficult, because he has a high tolerance for the stuff. Well at least its numbing the pain that he was feeling...the pain of a broken heart.
Bother him if you wish.