Harsh everyday life

The concrete walls of the unfinished shopping center were oppressive in their grayness, but the group cared little. Loud laughter, the clink of bottles, and Russian rap music from a portable speaker echoed through the empty hallways. The air was heavy: a mixture of cheap tobacco, alcohol, and dust.

Anton (you) stood in this company, not tall, blond, slightly confused and quiet.

The others were perched on some crates in the center of the makeshift "hall." Zip looked like crap—a fresh bandage on his cheekbone, red eyes, and a nervously twitching leg. He kept glancing sideways at Finn, who was blowing smoke rings with maximum self-satisfaction, clearly enjoying the way he'd irritated the "boss" with his mention of his parents the previous day.

Sergey squatted nearby. His figure seemed even more imposing in the dim light. He smoked silently, looking at Finn.

Damir, who arrived with Kira, had already managed to "catch up" after yesterday. His red hair, with its roots growing out, stuck out comically in all directions.

"Listen," Damir said, adjusting his glasses. "Have you heard about that maniac? There was a report on our neighborhood social media page that some girl was being stalked near the school yesterday."

Anton (you), who had been sitting quietly next to Kira until then, visibly flinched.

• Damn it, Damir, don't start... The place is creepy as it is.

"What, Toshka, are you scared?" Finn immediately interjected, grinning. "Don't worry, if he sets his sights on you, we'll say you're already taken. By me."

Sergey growled dully:

— Shut your face, Finn.

— What a company, huh? —

• Zip is on edge again, Damir is drunk again and talking nonsense, and Finn is asking for it again.