Tristan tossed his phone onto his bed once he entered his suite.
He angrily yanked his tie off tossing it to the floor as well as his coat. He swallowed a dry, angry lump down his throat and walked towards the terrace where a sprawling pool sat ending at the very edge of the terrace itself.
Flames suddenly flicked in the darkness lighting up the tip of the thin cigarette against his lips. With a puff he let out the smoke as it swirled into the air leaving his face shrouded in a dark, mysterious mist.
His eyes were focused far into the distance, where tiny stars twinkled barely visibly in the sky.
Once, there was a special night where he had laid with a woman and felt...alive.
He tried not to feel much but the pleasure the magnitude of his success could give, he hardly felt pleasure in most things.
