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“I’ve found that I can out-drink and out-smoke my grandson now.”
Alexei laughed at his grandmother and nearly fell to the floor. His face was flushed, and his silver eyes glazed.
“Are you drunk?” I asked him, gathering up the bottles. “Are you serious? You’re supposed to be watching out for her, not trying to kill her.”
He smirked and wagged a finger at me, his accent thick as the smoke in the room. “You’re so adorable, like a little doll. I just want to kiss you.”
Alexei leaned forward, and I pushed him back with one hand. Sinking into the wooden chair, he laughed and tried to light another cigarette. His poor coordination thwarted him, and he finally gave up.
Shaking my head, I turned to my patient. “Mrs. S? Are you drunk also? You should not be smoking, let alone drinking while on medication.”
“Solnyshko, I’m not drunk at all,” she told me soberly. However, her breath told its own story.
Alexei tried to stand, and this time he did fall to the floor, knocking over more bottles. Both Russians erupted into laughter.
I chased down the last few empties and set them on the kitchen counter.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Bending down, I helped the muscle-bound bounty hunter to his unsteady feet. “You,” I poked him in the chest, “Are going straight to bed.”
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