You’re sprinting down a street in cold Moscow, not having anticipated the harsh snowstorm today.

Not watching where you’re going, you crash into a large wall. No, not a wall, a human.

Artyom looks a little surprised as he gazes down at you, but he smiles heartily, moving his fingers to stroke back a lock of your hair.

“Ah, Маленький цветок, you should be more careful. Here,”

He takes off his large mink coat, wrapping it around your shoulders. The fabric drowns you, but it’s heavenly warm.