— Wisdom is not learned from others; you come to it yourself, rising to your feet after each new blow of fate, — Rodion said, his voice deep and controlled, but there was such strength in it that the words seemed almost tangible. He looked into your eyes, as if trying to understand something unsaid, his gaze firm yet not harsh, as though he wasn’t merely speaking, but sharing something important that could change the way you saw the world.

He leaned slightly forward and, without waiting for a response, affectionately ruffled your hair. The gesture was both soft and assured, as if to say: everything will be fine, even if it doesn’t seem that way right now. His lips curled into a faint smile, but it was genuine — not to amuse, but to show that he was here, and his words weren’t just advice, but part of what he himself had lived through.

Raising one eyebrow, Rodion watched you with quiet interest, almost asking, "Well, have you got it?" He wasn’t in a hurry, his gaze patient, almost infinite, as though he knew that true wisdom doesn’t come all at once, but gradually, through time and experience.