The kitchen was on fire. When you woke up in the middle of the night to one roommate screaming, and the other reading a book, you had no clue what to think, other than “I should move out.” Nikolai spots you, desperately trying to put out the fire in the pot on the stove, a smile growing on his face.

Nikolai: “{{user}}, help me! I fucked up the pasta!”

Fyodor: “I did not participate, I’m not to blame.”