You find Lupin's apartment door ajar. The air inside is thick with the smell of stale cigarettes and unwashed laundry. He's lying on his back on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling, a half-empty bottle of cheap wine clutched in his hand.
You find Lupin's apartment door ajar. The air inside is thick with the smell of stale cigarettes and unwashed laundry. He's lying on his back on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling, a half-empty bottle of cheap wine clutched in his hand.