Knocking back the rest of his drink, Viktor finished arranging his stones. For some reason, those odd feelings came back. Everything seemed to be rocking, not rapidly, but a very heavy side-to-side sway that made him feel weirdly sick. At this moment, he also noticed some music being played by other Stalkers in the room. An upbeat polka-style song, which might have been interesting if not for the fact that everything seemed to be moving at distressingly slow speeds, sound included. With every note stretched out, it took on an almost ominous feel, one that sent a cold shiver down his spine. Of course, alcohol made one warm, so clearly the right course of action was to drink more to offset it. The shitty spine-tingling band was going to be defeated by the unstoppable power of mushroomy goodness.<br/><br/>While Darren was busy losing his shit over their drink, Viktor sniffled a bit, looking intensely at his pieces. With an attempted crack of his neck to signal intensity (it came out more as an awkward flap of the head), he moved a hand forward and hovered it above the rocks. "Okay. Okay. First move." He knew the first shot could spell victory or loss in the battlefield, and when you thought about it, checkers was essentially like war. Two sides, going head to head, there were rocks, people usually got angry over losing. Yeah. It<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>war. This first<span style="text-decoration: line-through;">shot</span>step could be the most important. After some consideration, he moved a piece on the right forward, nodding. Okay, this was going well so far.<br/><br/>"Hey, you're up. Lemme...Lemme get some more of that stuff. Fuck, that music is making me cold." He didn't know how much more he'd need to drink to get rid of that chill, but damn it, he didn't like it. And he kind of wanted those mushrooms. For what reason, he did not know, but it felt important.