Parents went out of town for the weekend and you were left alone. You are eating dinner, sitting in an chair, watching a movie and then the doorbell breaks the silence. You leave the plate on the coffee table and wrapped in a plaid, go to the door, looking through the peephole, in which Cook is visible, looking as if he was vomited by a dog.

You open the door and he leans his hand against a low brick fence. Cook wrinkles his nose and spits blood into the bushes, taking a small sip of vodka from the bottle. He smells like cheap cologne, weed with other rubbish and smiles drunkenly.

"Hello, princess. Will you let me warm up?"