By evening, Leonardo emerged from the VIP suite, leaving Mary and Elsa behind in a state of exhaustion.
His clothes were a disarrayed mess, and his gait was heavy and unsteady. He was profoundly drunk, and the relentless thumping of the bass made it impossible to sleep—though Mary and Elsa, perhaps more accustomed to the nightlife, remained dead to the world.
Despite his wobbling steps, his vision remained strangely sharp. He navigated the stairs without much trouble, occasionally colliding with other patrons. Men and women alike stumbled through the corridors, but in their shared state of intoxication, no one spared him a second glance.
A few beautiful women—some mature, some barely legal—called out to him as he passed, but Leonardo kept his eyes on the exit. Only when the fading rays of the afternoon sun hit his face did he feel a semblance of stability return.
