Bloody Shirt & Booze

This situation was quite...inconvenient, to say the least.
Cazimir stood in a small room, and on his feet were three men he had just knocked out. He had suspected these contacts were dirty, but to go and try to ambush him? Spineless and stupid, it would seem. Cazimir was clearly above them in all aspects. Well, suppose they thought attacking him at the same time would help them win. But even Rada could've won against these men, they had not been a hard opponent.
"The Volkovs will remember your hospitality, you'll hear from us."
Cazimir said, and turned around to walk out the door he had walked in from few minutes before. Good thing he hadn't brought Malakias with him this time, the boy would've been in the way since Cazimir would've protected him.

Cazimir put his hand on the handle, but before he could open the door he felt a knife sink into his side. Cazimir coughed a bit of blood, the weapon had punctured his lung. He turned around to see one more man, one Cazimir hadn't seen before. So there had been one more dirty contact.
Cazimir turned around sharply, the knife still in his side, and kicked the man across the small room. He hit his head and was out cold in seconds. Cazimir sighed and coughed some more, he tasted blood in his mouth. Cazimir looked down on the knife, it hurt quite a lot, but the man showed no sign of pain as he calmly took a hold of the weapon and slowly drew it out. Cazimir's white dress shirt was now ruined, although the man had been kind enough to not puncture Cazimir's dark leather jacket.

Cazimir threw the knife on the floor and took off his jacket and dress shirt. Now bare chested he dug a lighter from his jacket pocket and set the shirt on fire. No evidence left behind.
Cazimir finally stepped out of the door, still without jacket, and the door disappeared behind him as it was magic. This island was curious indeed.
Cazimir stumbled just a bit, the wound was already closing but he had lost some blood and felt slightly weak. But that would pass, and a shirtless man in an alleyway would attract unwanted attention. So Cazimir leaned on the wall and slowly put on his long leather jacket. He felt the cold in the air, even if he was used to cold Russian winters it wasn't a good idea to spend too much time shirtless in the snow and cold.

Few minutes should be enough to stop the dizzyness, and yet Cazimir's head still felt light. He had lost more blood than he thought. The wound was now completely gone and hadn't even been bad enough to give him a new scar. Cazimir had those enough in the first place so it was a good thing.
Cazimir could smell the man before he heard him. It was a familiar smell, the smell of hand sanitizer, rubber and blood. Hospital. Cazimir turned his head when the man called out, what a brave fellow. Cazimir could not have looked that friendly, a large, well-built man who probably smelled like blood to those with well enough sense of smell. And closer you didn't even need to have a good sense of smell, you couldn't tell from Cazimir's black pants and shoes but both had a lot of blood on them.

Cazimir pushed himself upright, he didn't get a dizzy spell so that was a good sign. He looked down on the shorter man, Cazimir had no intentions of hurting this man in any way. But the naturally mean look Cazimir had could say otherwise. Besides, it looked like the man had been hurt plenty already. His face had many scars. But Cazimir was part of a mafia, that was nothing new. And there were scars on Cazimir as well, though most were on his body.
"Yes, everything is alright."
Was all Cazimir simply said, his voice appearing surprisingly soft, with an edge from his Russian accent. Cazimir was certain this man was acting from sense of duty, since it seemed he worked at a hospital or similar medical position.
"Have a good night."
Cazimir said with a nod and attempted to walk past the man and return back to the restaurant and get a drink. But apparently taking steps was too much of a hurdle still and Cazimir had to lean on a dumpster when his vision became blurry for a moment.
Cazimir wanted to growl from frustration, he was rusty and now had acted weal in front of a stranger, but he had a tight grip on his emotions and thus stayed quiet, waiting for when he recovered.

What should Cazimir say to this man? He thought about it as he observed him calmly. The man had taken note of Cazimir's loss of blood, that much anyone could see. The man was also cautious, he was right to be. But so was Cazimir, and he wasn't about to accept juice from this man. For all Cazimir knew the man could be another friend of those dirty contacts.
"I'm not going to pass out, much less die. I have an extremely high regeneration rate."
Cazimir explained, and lifted his hand up to refuse the juice. He straightened again, the dizzyness wanted to come back but with pure willpower Cazimir forced it back.
"So no need to worry for my fate. Unless you want to follow me to a bar, because I need a drink."
Cazimir pulled his jacket shut bit more tightly, his bare chest was out bit more than what was acceptable.

Cazimir made a brief note that this man called him "man" a lot. Perhaps it was due to the lack of them knowing each other's names. But Cazimir didn't feel comfortable telling this person his name just yet. So he was just going to be "man" for now then.

Cazimir had to admit he was surprised when the man did say he'd join him. Cazimir looked at the man and a ghost of a smile appeared on his face briefly.
"If I wanted to hurt you I would've done it already. And I don't. I don't hurt those that offer me help. If that's not bad manners then I don't know what is."
Cazimir didn't bother telling the man he was unarmed, they both knew that Cazimir wouldn't need a weapon to hurt or kill.
"As for passing out, I'll take a rain check on that."

Cazimir began walking, and this time he didn't get dizzy. He presumed the man would just follow along, and Cazimir made sure to take bit shorter steps than usual. His usual walking pace was fast, and in his current state a bit too fast for his low blood body. Cazimir was pleased with being able to bring a new customer to the bar, that meant more money and that meant more funds. Well, also more work for him. But that was just a minor inconvenience.

"I work at a vodka bar just few blocks from here. Wolf's Den. Very good drinks."
Cazimir told the man when he asked a question, and showed a brief thumbs up over his shoulder to accent how good the drinks were. Cazimir collected some looks due to his appearance, that didn't hide his shirtlessness, and probably due to his scent. But Cazimir was clearly alright, walking with a straight back and unwavering gaze, hands in his pockets, so no one bothered to stop him.

It wouldn't take long for the two to reach a two storied building made from dark wood and stone, that had a staircase on the side that had a sign above it that read "Step into the Wolf's Den". And that was exactly what Cazimir did. He gripped the railing tightly, in case he got dizzy again, and climbed the stairs. Up on the balcony there was a door and Cazimir opened it wide. A wave of warm air hit Cazimir and a familiar scent of liquor, bit of cigars and tobacco, good Russian food and pastries and, of course, werewolves.

"Hey, Cazimir! Ran away from a lover?! Was he that bad?!"
A more than little drunk werewolf called out to Cazimir and made the entire group on that table laugh. The joke was probably due to his shirtless appearance under the jacket.
"Better than you, and I don't need to sleep with you to know that."
Cazimir answered with a calm tone and a pleasant smile, and the table roared from laughter. The men around liked to poke at the fact that Cazimir slept with both men and women, but mostly men. The jokes were never malicious so Cazimir took them lightly.
Similar jokes and greetings rained from other tables, and Cazimir answered each with a nod, a wave or a small smile as he made his way to the bar.

Bastian would notice, that as the two made their way through the bar people would greet him too, with friendly smiles that were softened by good alcohol and food. Anyone who came to the den, especially with Cazimir, and acted civilized was a friend. And since Bastian had not drawn a weapon on anyone or harassed anyone yet he was a friend.
Since Cazimir was now among allies he didn't mind his name being revealed, and it saved him the task of introducing himself if he and the man became friendly enough. Cazimir wasn't going to ask for his name, the man would do it himself if or when he saw fit.

Vodka soda. Perhaps the man had something to do tomorrow morning. But Cazimir worked on his own schedule, and his hungover was a headache at best im the first place. So when the man asked him what he wanted Cazimir simply walked behind the bar and took a liquorice vodka bottle for himself. The bartender paid no mind and simply let Cazimir do this, starting to prepare Bastian's drink.
"I have noticed that after an attempted mugging liquorice vodka tastes the best."
Cazimir said, subtly offering an explanation for his injuries and making a joke, or at least attempting to. Cazimir could be smooth, maybe even charming, but funny was not one of his specialties.