(no subject)
Alexandre dragged himself out of bed at the ungodly hour of eight in the morning to have breakfast with his mother. He had spent a good part of the night polishing off a bottle of firewhiskey, and thanks to a clever hangover reducing spell he learned from mother dearest long, long ago, he couldn't have felt better, despite the lack of sleep.
After a quick shower, he made his way down the two flights of stairs and into the dining room. His mother had already begun eating, and welcomed him with a bright smile when he entered the room.
"Morning, dorogoi," she greeted him. She often found herself using Russian terms of endearment. It made her feel a bit more like she was home again.
"Mmm," he replied, letting himself sink into one of the large dining room chairs. Lifting a glass of orange juice to his lips, he took a rather large sip.
It was not just orange juice. He would have said something, but he was busy focusing on not choking on stinging in the back of his throat.
"Your father wanted me to talk to you," she began, dropping about 15 sugar cubes into her tea.
Alexandre rolled his eyes.
"I already told you, I'd give it some thought," he said for what seemed like the thirtieth time this Summer.
"Yes, well, he needs an answer," she began. "You understand the importance of this..."
Alexandre gritted his teeth and held onto his glass tightly. He raised it to his mouth and finished it off. The vodka was burning in his stomach but he ignored it and stood to make himself another drink.
"I'll think about it," he said somewhat coldly, skipping the orange juice and gulping down several sips of straight vodka.
"You will NOT use that tone of voice with me," she snapped, raising from her chair and advancing toward her son. Her top lip quivered and she stared at him straight in the eye.
Alexandre simply finished off his glass and set it down rather loudly on the table. Lyudmina Narminov's ice blue eyes seemingly shot fire at him and she very quickly slapped him across the face.
"I'm going for a walk," he said calmly, leaving his shaking mother alone in the dining room.
It's nine in the morning and I'm drunk.
This might be a new record for me.
Might.
ooc: OK, so. He and his mother clearly have a very fucked up relationship. This is just a taste of what is to come. Woo!