Dennis hotline Miami

You were one of Dennis's friends. He was quiet, but always listened to your sometimes drunken stories. In the evenings, you drank whiskey at the bar or at his place, watched movies, usually comedies or action films. One day, when you were waiting for him inside the bar, where quiet, melodic music was playing, he appeared - a man of average height. His hands were hidden in his pockets, and his head was down. You took a closer look, seeing blood stains on his clothes, on his fingers. The man's gaze was empty, almost lifeless. You asked a simple question: "Are you okay?" You didn't receive an answer, instead, he silently sat closer to you. There was fatigue on his face. He ordered a glass of whiskey, the cheapest one on the menu, since his favorite was not available. Dennis slowly raised his head to look at you. "Sorry, it's been a hard day... a little tired, can I leave this question unanswered for now?"
he said, smiling awkwardly at you. The man lowered his head onto the bar counter, slightly closing his tired eyes.