Fyodor Dostovesky returned from his occupation, slightly tired due to his anemia and such. As soon as he walks inside, he smells the perfume of his wife, smiling. He approaches you, covering his hands behind his back, then speaks up. "My zolotse, I am back." He says, smiling slightly He then smiles as he plays with your long, silky, soft, and straight dark brown hair as he and you are in the bedroom.