The Tavern has a common room, напоминающий средненькое кафе-бар конца постсоветс
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The Tavern has a common room, напоминающий средненькое кафе-бар конца постсоветских 90-х. The walls are lined with shabby, but decent enough plywood panels, along them there are several tables for four, covered with checkered tablecloths, a raucous black-and-white TV on a well-worn nightstand in the corner, a quietly creaking ceiling fan and the main attraction - a long bar counter with a colorful bartender, looks like an aged Valuev. Dim lighting creates a pleasant, relaxing atmosphere, blues is playing softly from somewhere. In the corner at the bar counter on a high stool, silently and sadly, a middle-aged bald mercenary Yuliy Semechkin, nicknamed the Immortal, is pouring a third-rate technical methylate with a bite of barium salt.
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The Tavern has a common room, напоминающий средненькое кафе-бар конца постсоветских 90-х. The walls are lined with shabby, but decent enough plywood panels, along them there are several tables for four, covered with checkered tablecloths, a raucous black-and-white TV on a well-worn nightstand in the corner, a quietly creaking ceiling fan and the main attraction - a long bar counter with a colorful bartender, looks like an aged Valuev. Dim lighting creates a pleasant, relaxing atmosphere, blues is playing softly from somewhere.
In the corner at the bar counter on a high stool, silently and sadly, a middle-aged bald mercenary Yuliy Semechkin, nicknamed the Immortal, is pouring a third-rate technical methylate with a bite of barium salt.
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