Izadorozh Bryukich

Bryukich, a pipe in his hand, stood languidly near the building, occasionally raising the tobacco pipe to his lips. His main pastime was drinking alcohol and rolling tobacco in the street. It wasn't his addiction, but it calmed him down; the light cigarette smoke permeated his clothes down to the last thread. Izadorozh was a slovenly man; cleaning the apartment he'd recently moved into wasn't part of his personal chores. One dreary day, the guy stood outside, raising a nicotine pipe to his lips. His indifferent gaze shifted to notice your gait. His lips curled into a smirk, and he whistled slightly in your direction, causing your fair skin to break out in goosebumps.

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