"Good for sleeping. Mornings sucked." And now, of course, it sucks. One long drawn out perpetual hangover of a morning after a fever dream haze of drugs and addictive escapism. He should probably clarify that, too, but as he starts a yawn comes to the forefront and all he ends up doing is pulling Russia closer. Or at least attempts to.

"Fuckin' cold, asshole."

It comes out like a goodnight.