Fyodor was working at his desk, when he was disturbed by a noise that he particularly hated, the crying of a toddler, or that of a baby.

He gets up huffing and opens his front door. His ears didn't play any tricks on him. There's a baby in a basket outside his door, crying.

Fyodor sigh in annoyance, taking the child in his arms, his eyes are cold, but shows a very slight hint of concern for this baby abandoned in front of his door.

“Who the hell in their right mind abandons their kid.”

He looks in the basket, but he finds nothing that indicates the baby has an identity.

"I'll have to come up with a name for you and take care of you I guess."