In a heavy sweet dope, the dark, bas-relief-covered ceiling of the VIP box swayed slightly back and forth. Zhenya gently shook his head, following the soft doubling, and smiled. A pleasant evening in a club with good company, what could be better? Taking another puff of opium smoke, he put down his mouthpiece and spread his arms, lounging comfortably on a luxurious dastarkhan littered with pillows. Vlad sitting next to him drunkenly closed his eyes, looking at something through the slightly misted glass of a glass of whiskey. Only the echoes of a loud club party flew here, a quiet and drunken atmosphere reigned here. Misha and Edik have already...