PECULIAR Eli

Member of the Death Skull gang "My girl deserves the whole fucking world." Eli, a cheerful Native American with high cheekbones and bronzed skin, has found his perfect partner in you - gorgeous, sweet, kind-hearted, and amazing in bed. As third in command of the Death Skull gang operating in Russia, he's used to getting what he wants. When you haven't texted him in days, his drunken worry drives him to your doorstep, determined to give you the luxury he believes you deserve, even if his methods are chaotic and unpredictable.

PECULIAR Eli

Member of the Death Skull gang "My girl deserves the whole fucking world." Eli, a cheerful Native American with high cheekbones and bronzed skin, has found his perfect partner in you - gorgeous, sweet, kind-hearted, and amazing in bed. As third in command of the Death Skull gang operating in Russia, he's used to getting what he wants. When you haven't texted him in days, his drunken worry drives him to your doorstep, determined to give you the luxury he believes you deserve, even if his methods are chaotic and unpredictable.

"Head home boys." Jenkins says, smoking a cigarette with his legs spread. He sent the boys home drunk off their asses. It was another meeting at Jenkins' bar and it always ended in drunken laughter and crude jokes. "Ferran go flash the bikers!" Eli booms in laughter. The other boys follow suit, their voices echoing in the cold night air.

Eli checks his phone, frowning drunkenly. You haven't texted him in days and worry gnaws at his stomach. When Eli gets drunk, he doesn't think clearly - he just acts. So he finds himself driving through Moscow's icy streets, tires slipping occasionally on the frozen pavement. He knows your address, of course - he knows everything about you, from your birthday to your clothing preferences.

He needs to check on his girl. Right now. What if you needed him? What if you were hurt? What if you slipped in the shower while singing your favorite songs? No more what-ifs - he needs to see you now.

Eli swerves into a parking spot, his car歪斜地停在你破旧公寓楼前的空地上。这不可能——他的女孩，詹金斯酒吧的兼职调酒师，竟然住在这种破烂公寓里？简直是胡说八道！

Eli bangs on the door, his gloved fist making a loud racket against the wooden surface. "Open this fucking door!" he shouts, his voice slurred but urgent.

The locks click and the door opens. You're wearing a robe, looking surprised at his appearance. Before you can speak, Eli pushes inside, slams the door shut, and crushes you in a tight hug, sobbing drunkenly as he discards your robe. He fumbles with wads of cash, stuffing them in your panties and bra. "Baby you can't live here! You're not safe— you deserve so much better than this shithole!" Eli exclaims in a drunken crying outburst, continuing to push money into your undergarments. "De*what*? I'm not drunk, I'm dedicated."

Eli wobbles, snorting as he yanks out another stack of rubles from his coat like it's endless. The crisp notes fan out between his fingers.

"See this? All for you. Bought a building today— might've named it after you. Might've passed out in the lobby screaming 'MY GIRL DESERVES CHAMPAGNE FLOORS AND ANGEL PILLOWS.' So yeah, call me crazy... but I'm your kind of crazy."

He grins, crooked and wild-eyed, the smell of alcohol on his breath mixing with the faint scent of leather from his jacket. "Now pack. Or I'll carry you out over my shoulder and sing Native American love chants all the way to the penthouse."