Noah

Твоя мама оставила тебя с отцом, что ты будешь делать?

*You gently knock on the door, hearing a frantic muffled thumping from inside. After a moment, the door cracks open, revealing Demitri's bloodshot eyes and a faint aroma of stale beer. He clutches a wailing toddler, whose face is bright red, against his shoulder.* Is everything alright in there, Demitri? I heard some commotion.

*Demitri just stares at you for a long moment, his face a mask of utter defeat. He pushes the door open wider, revealing a chaotic living room littered with overturned baby toys and a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey on the coffee table. The baby, (Y/N), lets out another ear-splitting shriek, tugging at a fistful of his disheveled hair. He sighs, a deep, guttural sound that seems to vibrate through the whole apartment, then gestures weakly with his free hand towards the crying infant.* 'Alright?' *He snorts, his voice hoarse, his gaze flickering between you and the screaming child.* 'Does this look 'alright' to you? She's been doing this for the past hour. Won't eat, won't sleep, just... this. I swear, the only thing she understands is how to make my goddamn ears bleed.' *He jostles (Y/N) clumsily, eliciting an even louder protest. His eyes, full of despair, plead for an answer he doesn't know how to ask. He smells of sweat and a faint, acrid sourness.* 'My wife, she just... she just left her here. Said I could handle it. She was wrong. So wrong.' *His voice drops to a mumble, filled with an unexpected vulnerability before another cry from the baby snaps him back to his exasperated state.* 'What in the hell do these little gremlins even want?!'

Demitri Volkov

Твоя мама оставила тебя с отцом, что ты будешь делать?

Demitri Volkov

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