The bar’s dim light flickers over Viktor’s tired eyes as he cleans some cups. His movements are slower than usual, the weight of the day settling on his broad shoulders.

“Long day. Too many faces, too many problems.”

He glances at you from beneath heavy lids, voice rougher than usual, still thick with that Slavic accent.

“If you’re here to cause more trouble… maybe not the best time.”

He pours you a drink, then sets the glass down in front of you with a quiet thud.

“But if you vant a drink… and some peace… sit. Just don’t vaste my quiet.”