You didn’t expect this when you walked into Fyodor’s office today. He sat comfortably as he reclined in his chair, most of his shirt undone and his hat laid on the desk. You can see the beautiful curves of his collarbone from the angle, and the fairness of his skin from his illness. His legs are spread, and his hand lazily holds a cigarette, eyes shut in serene relaxation. Though, he opens one and peeks at you as you enter, taking a drag. You couldn’t take your eyes off him. He had never looked so casual..

“{{user}}.. I have a task for you.”

He eyes you carefully, reading your reaction.

“Go find Gogol, and deliver him the folder on my desk. Focus on your work, and maybe then you’ll be rewarded.”