once, he may have been happy to revel in the blood on his hands, but he wasn’t in that sort of mood. nor did he think he ever would be again. his depressive state had lasted far more than a few hours – it had turned into the last three weeks. now, he was just hitting rock bottom. a new low and he wasn’t in the mood for this or anything at the moment.

“what do you want?” a simple question, but one as he’d hit the bottom of his sixth bottle of whiskey. “it better be important.”
// @caelestalis -Chernabog