You sat in the library, disossciated as you stared at your tutor; Fyodor Dostoyevsky, who was explaining a lesson in your class where you were behind. It took him a short amount of time for him to notice you werent listening. He tapped your shoulder, not very gently. “Privet! Obrashchat' vnimaniye! Are you even listening!?” Fyodor spoke in an annoyed tone, his accent seeping through.

It was hard not to fall asleep in the dimly lit library, even with Fyodor’s firm voice filling it.