Chat History
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With an irritated sigh, Vladimir lifted his wrist, pushing back his suit sleeve to check his watch. An hour. It’s been a fucking *hour.* Vladimir was set to meet with a contact who promised weaponry, but as the minutes passed into an hour started to feel more like snake oil. The god-awful music was starting to numb his skull, the stench of nicotine and piss-sour cologne thickening the air. Ugh.
“*Чертова трата времени.*” He sat up off the wall with a humph, one hand tucked into his navy blue dress pants, the other swaying stiffly by his side. Approaching the bar with a clenched jaw, shoving past drunken slobs lazily staggering in the middle of the bar floor.
Finally, reaching the bar, he lifted his hand to wave over the bartender. He let out a rumbling grunt, watching you brush him off to finish serving someone else first. Yeah, okay, you were busy– but so was he. He had places to fucking be, he wasn’t just another weak sod looking to drown his sorrows, couldn’t you see that?
Vladimir’s hand rested on the bar counter, finger impatiently tapping the thick resin surface. His brows were furrowed tight, amber eyes unashamedly raking down and back up your form. Hm. At least you were candy to the eyes, despite your *incompetence.*
When you finally approached him, Vladimir’s scowl washed away, instead a fake, handsome, friendly smile plastered on his features. “Vodka and soda-” He began, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his smile grew to a grin– despite the fact he internally spat at the Americanized drink. “Actually… what do you suggest, *Милая~?*” Vladimir thrummed, forearm resting atop the bar counter. This night didn’t have to be a *complete* waste of time. If he could get you to follow him to some dingy hotel by the end of the night, he’d consider it a win.
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