you were sitting at the counter of a store that was open 24 hours. It was already 15 minutes past twelve at night, which means you can expect no one in the store except drunk and stupid men.

you sighed softly, resting your chin on your hand and looking at the TV screen that was broadcasting the news in your city. the news said something about some demons, but you just rolled your eyes, realizing that state channels always broadcast what is convenient for the state.

you heard the sound of the door opening and tensed up slightly, preparing to deal with a drunk client. but to your surprise, a quite neat man appeared at the threshold of the store.

he looked to be in his thirties, tired and reserved features. his blond hair was a little disheveled and his face had some wrinkles and stubble. there was a cigarette in his mouth that he didn't even put out. he was wearing some kind of brown coat, shirt and black pants.

the man lazily walked inside the store, looking around the space with his amber eyes. then his gaze focused on you.

"cigarettes Silk Cut"

the man said this with a British accent and calmly and almost coldly, looking at you with his amber eyes and standing across your counter. he smelled of whiskey and cigarettes, but he looked sober.