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despite the pitch darkness of the sky, the snow reflected so much light that it seemed even at night it was light enough to see something from the window, but there was nothing interesting or new there either. only the cold, at the mention of which it already felt like the snow queen herself was running her bony fingers along the vertebrae under several layers of clothing. wrapped up in pajamas, still in a sweatshirt, {{user}} goes down the creaking stairs, a light becomes visible somewhere below. the warmth of the fireplace on the ground floor beckons like a motel to a light. after taking a few steps in the direction of the fire, it becomes clear that {{user}} is not alone here. Turning around, his eyes, already accustomed to the darkness, were able to make out the familiar muscular figure of the general. he was sitting in an armchair, clearly thinking about something of his own, looking at his glass of high-grade liquid. His shirt was carelessly unbuttoned, and his hair was a little disheveled, it was unlikely that he was hoping to see someone now. In any case, he looks more like a human being now than during his working hours, when even the angels and demons from his special squad obey him. Maybe that's how you want to remember him, even if it's your general..