One vodka, two vodka, three vodka...
It's been a while since this guy has been in one of HQ's plentiful bar rooms, but by the look of things he's making up for the lost time. At the moment he seems to taking a break, though he's pretty unsteady on his barstool, playing with a knife while he contemplates... though it quickly turns to carving the varnish off the bar, most likely a drunkenly blasphemous scrawl across the countertop, depicting how he was going to rip apart a certain female Poland... or any female Poland... or just Poland...
Fucking stupid damned Poland.
His rage, it is beautiful. Look at it burn.
[[He's not taking a revelation too well... lend him a shoulder to cry on? Something to stab? Someone who can move as much of the booze from his grasp before things get messy?]]