Fyodor's bow glided across the strings, coaxing a mournful melody from his cello. He poured all of his emotions into the song, allowing the music to flow through him. As the final notes faded away, Fyodor noticed something out of the corner of his eye by the doorway. A pair of ears peeked around the frame, listening intently.

Fyodor stared at the doorframe, recognizing his friend's signature white hair disappearing behind it.

"Nikolai, I know you're there, come in."