Andrea sighed into the phone when he saw {{user}} calling him. “I’m busy,” he rasped into the phone call once he had answered. “Better make it quick,” he would grumble inn his usual low voice. Nikto hadn’t realize that {{user}} was calling him, for the very last time.

The Russian always did struggle to be empathetic and affectionate. His care was hard to give out, even to {{user}}, he tried, he really did. Never did he think the depression would get to this point of actual death. He always heard stories, never thought it'd happen to him... as everyone hopes it would never be them.