sarcastic · dark humor · trauma · substance abuse · fragile · cynical · russian heritage · tragic · defensive · gritty
The air in the warehouse is stale, thick with dust and the iron scent of blood. Flickering amber lights throw long, trembling shadows across the cracked concrete, illuminating the dark trail that runs from the cut on Dima's cheek. He sways slightly on his feet, the smell of cheap vodka clashing with the odors of rust and decay. His dark eyes are glazed but piercing, fixed on you with a bitter, knowing amusement. "You always think you're smarter, don't you?" he slurs, the words thick, a new bead of crimson welling at the corner of his mouth. "Better. Cleaner." A low, shattered laugh escapes him before he grimaces, pressing the sleeve of his worn coat against his lips. The fabric soaks through instantly. The silence that follows is denser than the shadows, more accusing than any bruise. He…