ETA for fully unpacking - questionable

Kyle Evans stepped out of the yellow cab and onto the sidewalk in front of his condo high rise. The Imperial was a luxury tower of large scale apartments that was privately owned by Evenhet Coporation. Kyle was unaware of all this information, he only knew that his job was footing the bill, specifically the editor, his surrogate father.

He looked at himself in the rotating door glass and saw a particularly dishelved man, albeit currently sober. He would have to work on that. He pushed thru the rotating doors and crossed the plush lobby. There was a door man and a front desk clerk to field guests. The elevators were secured and required card key entry. No one went up that wasn't invited or a tenant.

He leaned into the card key reader and rested his head on the steel wall. Ignoring other tenants coming and going around him, he let the cool metal soothe his head. He was hung over still from the night before and had worked on a story all day. An unholy drunk, Kyle was courteous enough to respect his Editor's wishes that he stay sober during the day.

'If you're working, I dont want to smell a drop on you,' he said. 'But god damnit Kyle I wish you wouldnt drink at all.'

Kyle pushed off the wall as the elevator dinged and opened. Reaching the 11th floor, he exited alone and walked down the long corridor to 1103. He used his card key again which activated a small panel. Kyle pressed his thumb against it and sighed. The door made a clicking noise.

He turned the handle and pushed the door open, but it only went partway. Peeking around he saw the boxes. He had been in the apartment now for about a year.

'I need to unpack,' he mumbled.

It opened into a large living room with wall sized windows that had automated blinds. It acted on sensors that detected the amount of sun being let in or Kyle could program his preference, which was closed most of the time. Stumbling over some boxes, Kyle put his keys and wallet in the bowl that was on the table near the door. He stripped off his jacket and pulled off his shirt, throwing it on the couch, along with the others.

'I need to do laundry,' he mumbled again.

The condo itself had no real theme in its design. Kyle just unpacked what he needed and left the rest in boxes. There were no paintings on the wall and books laid stacked on the ground. He had a square cornered black leather couch and a rather small television on a rickety stand.

A large window sized opening viewed into the kitchen to his right and a hallway led down to a spare bedroom. Off the hallway were stairs leading up to the second floor. He chose to keep his bedroom downstairs, it prevented drunken spills down the steps. He did, however, keep his bar upstairs, defeating his saftey plan.

Kyle was built lean and stayed naturally cut around his chest and arms. An all alcohol diet was apparently very good for his physique. Kicking off his shoes, he made his way up the stairs. Here is where he kept his liquor and office. He plopped himself down at his computer and opened a deep drawer. He pulled out a tumbler and some Souther Comfort.

'I really need to stop drinking,' he mumbled and poured himself a triple shot of whiskey.