Niko wasn't taking being far from his family too well. No way to contact his cousin, his mother. The view from the... lounge... bar... restaurant? thing was pretty nice and it was unfortunate that he just couldn't bring himself to properly enjoy it.
So he was enjoying the synthehol instead. Sort of. The drunkeness wasn't sticking.
No one had told him about it, he just knew the drinks tasted odd. He worked his way through several before he realized that something was off. Either he'd developed a constitution that would be enviable among even the most hardened, vodka loving Slavs or something had gone terribly awry here.
"Shit, did I somehow leave my ability to get drunk behind?" He still spoke his accent tinted English instead of Serbian despite translators being available, and he stared down into the dregs of his glass in absolute confusion. "There is something not right about all of this."
He was definitely going to need something that would get him properly sauced.
Niko Bellic | Grand Theft Auto IV | Option 01
So he was enjoying the synthehol instead. Sort of. The drunkeness wasn't sticking.
No one had told him about it, he just knew the drinks tasted odd. He worked his way through several before he realized that something was off. Either he'd developed a constitution that would be enviable among even the most hardened, vodka loving Slavs or something had gone terribly awry here.
"Shit, did I somehow leave my ability to get drunk behind?" He still spoke his accent tinted English instead of Serbian despite translators being available, and he stared down into the dregs of his glass in absolute confusion. "There is something not right about all of this."
He was definitely going to need something that would get him properly sauced.