Miroslav stood up to tread, and move along, but hooked still glancing through the bar and the table instead, where Ares and Xing were having their conversation. He was now not only less edgy but doling his burden out obviously medicated the tense minutes.
Although yielding against the massive typing awaiting him was far beyond reason, he just let his mind slip into recalling his childhood days for a moment, and the vast wheat field in Kaluga, he had spent the entire summer when he was eight years old with a band of his friends so called as 'blind evil'.
Ares had an rather elated and humorous tone as Miroslav departed the bar without saying a single word and started heading to his room, with the hard labor along, in the name of substantiating facts with stats. Ares smiled comfortably, perceptive of the fact that his young zealot would return back soon.
On the uncharted lagoons of anguish, I sail with a canoe made of my sins.
