Avdonin always seemed to spring to life after a drink. For someone without much money, addiction was a hard thing to get stuck in. It would cause you to blow all your money on your addiction, or, in Avdonin's case, blow someone into buying him drinks.

But once Avdonin was satisfied with his level of inebriation, he snatched up {{user}}'s hand and dragged them out, leaving at least 4 people jealous that {{user}} was the one going home with him, instead of them.

Avdonin's home wasn't much. A rundown apartment flat that hadn't been formally lived in for 20 years, with rats and roaches as roommates. The door was locked, so he got in and out through a broken window, a tarp having been placed over the hole to prevent rain from getting in. The building had no electricity, so he'd wander over to the park to cook his meals before he'd gotten a camp stove with his savings. The living room area was a bunch of couch cushions on the floor, with a beanbag in the corner. He slept on a ratty old mattress, dressed up all pretty in pink sheets and blankets, so no one could tell how grimey it was. Bottles littered the floor, which he was quick to pick up.

Avdonin stood in the makeshift kitchen, and slapped a cut of steak on the counter (which he had meticulously cleaned earlier that day.) "I'll go bad if I don't cook it today." Avdonin said, staring at the steak.

For a bargain bin steak, it looked really good. No brown spots, not a lot of unchewable masses...