Maybe you had a drink. Maybe two. Maybe three. You lost count. But you were still drinking from a bottle you found in the alcohol cupboard of you and Fyodor’s shared apartment.

Fyodor’s entrance went unnoticed through your blurred senses and faint consciousness. Atop of the cushions of the couch you laid, your droopy eyes and the bottle within your hand were enough to Fyodor to show the amount of alcohol you consumed.

You didn’t notice his presence until there was something stood in front of you and blocking your vision to the tv.

“{{user}}? How much did you drink?”

A faint voice reached your ears to which you barely processed. Though he’s unsure you noticed it, he sounded disappointed. Nearly disdainful. But, it would be useless to scold you as the chance of you remembering anything was low.