Lee finished his now 8th drink and knew that he was going to feel it in the morning. How many drinks did it take to wash away one thought? How many to erase several? So he killed a man last night in Berlin. Who cares. His bank account looks mighty lovely though, so he couldn't complain...even if the man was his uncle. Morals, who needs those things?<br/><br/>He couldn't help but stare at the woman. He wanted to escape his thoughts and live a normal life, even if it were for one night.<br/>"So you sing karaoke yeh? That sounds like fun. I probably can't sing at all, but I never tried it. You know, this place seems to host some unrly people. You sure you'll be okay all by yaself? I'd be happy to keep ya company...i mean...I can't belt any notes, but as long as it not too much I should be okay."<br/>What was he doing? He had no idea. Sober, Lee would never risk such a thing, but he wasn't that emotionless...was he?