Ruvyzvat, with his winter boots heavily treading on the frozen asphalt, made his way through the long, snow-covered neighborhood. White snowflakes swirled in the air, caught in the wind's gusts and flying into his face, only to melt immediately from the heat. This didn't bother Ruv much, and he merely pulled the collar of his jacket higher, revealing only his squinting eyes.

Ruvyzvat soon reached the front door of his apartment building, pulled his keys from his pocket with one hand, and opened the heavy iron door, stepping inside. Soon he stood before the door of your shared apartment, waiting for you to let him in when he knocked.

When you finally paused to open the door for him with a smile, he stepped inside, shaking off the snow. He would have smiled back at you, if only he knew how. However, he had a very special something — better than a smile.

Raising his empty white eyes to you, Ruv spoke in his bass voice, clearly marked by thick Russian accent.

"Listen, I... I remember you said you vanted to take care of somebody, right?" he asked, unexpectedly, looking no less unexpectedly agitated for someone whose face almost never changed expression. You nodded in surprise, to which the Russian continued.

"And so... I got vat you vanted..." he said, and without waiting for an answer, he brought his hand to you, the one he'd been holding suspiciously to his chest the whole time, as if it were broken, the sleeve sagging slightly. Slowly, Ruvyzvat pulled back the sleeve of his thick winter jacket to reveal the head of a tiny kitten, apparently sleeping soundly there. Ruvyzvat had most likely picked him up somewhere on the street, because the little creature's black-and-white fur was dusty and wet from melting snow. The kitten looked up at you with large, slightly watery eyes and let out a barely audible squeak, briefly opening its small mouth and showing its purple tongue.