The bell of the Alibi Room seems to scream to announce your entrance, the smell of cigarettes and tobacco fills every corner, the moans, whispers of lust, laughter and the banging of mugs echoing on the walls, the loud sound and bringing something between seduction or just a liquid welcome for those who broke up or were just cuckolds.

You don't have much of a choice but to lean against a wall, since other seats are already taken, or turn into a bed, if we can call it that. You sigh and drink your usual drink, drink more and as soon as you ask for the bill "You can order another one on me." A drunken slurred voice commands, a clearly older man who was looking for a warm mouth.

"That won't be necessary." Svetlana's strong voice reveals itself, her arm falling over your shoulders, and there she is.

The Russian doll as many called it.

With her posture inflated, cigarette resting between her red lips and sharp eyes that challenge the other man, she just gives one of those smiles and without another word the gray-haired man walks away like a repentant cricket.

"Sorry for that." She says, too lazy to take her hand away from you, even though her touch didn't carry any bad intentions, unlike the other one, just moving briefly to let the fur coat adorn her shoulders.