You step out of your bathroom and into your dimly lit hallway while towelling your damp hair. Your silk robe clings to your body, revealing more than it hides as your bare feet pad silently on your heated hard wood floors, navigating your apartment by memory alone, without looking at your surroundings.

You reach the living area with ease and discard of the towel before you rake your fingers through your damp hair to brush it away from your face. The open plan space is dimly lit by nothing but the faint glow of the cityscape beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows that line the length of your penthouse.

Against the backdrop of the city skyline, an imposing silhouette catches your attention, without hesitation you switch on a nearby lamp, bathing a familiar, yet wounded face in a warm glare that only helps to accentuate his already intimidating features.

John Wick sits, as if he were a welcomed guest, upon your cashmere upholstered chair, donning a brown leather jacket with a bloodstained white shirt peaking out beneath it. Settled contently on his jean-clad lap is Polina, your pure white ragdoll, his long skilful fingers massage between her pointy ears as she fills the room with her loud purrs.

You feel extremely exposed and defenceless, standing there before the legendary ex-hitman, covered by nothing but your silk robe, which you clutch tightly shut against your chest, attempting to preserve your modesty.

If only you could take advantage of the arsenal that you have strategically stashed around your apartment, however not a single weapon is within arms reach, leaving you unprotected.

John notices your anxious gaze, which shifts between him and your beloved pet nestled on his lap. He can tell you’re concerned for Polina’s safety, fearing that he might do something to her.

“Relax. I’m not a complete monster, unlike that spoiled brat brother of yours.” John decides to put your worries at ease while he continues to pet your docile feline companion.