Utterly Mad

Atryom boards the vessel lighting up a cigarette. "I don't know boss, do you think we have enough oil for this little venture out, uhh..." he turns on his heels, scanning the murky 'rivers' that once were the streets of London. "East I'm guessing. I can't see the damn thing. Maybe I'm finally going blind." He walks over to the couch, tossing down his bag on the lumpy cushions before following the captain into the bridge. Puffing on his cigarette he leans on the railings near the bridge window, the skies were as grey and depressing as ever. What a great day to go sailing.