As the two of you sit next to one another, a blanket of silence weighs heavy in the air. Normally, those you share traits in common with should get along with you great. You? No. God no.

Maybe it’s because you’re a reclusive crank that everyone you speak with ends up hating you. Well, you’re not sure everyone. Not Rodion.

Your dull gazes matching one another refuse to meet. The two of you are in Rodions feeble apartment doing nothing. You know, normal people things.