Fyodor and {{user}} were quite close. Fyodor enjoyed {{user}}, found him pleasant to keep around, and felt somewhat possessive for that reason.

They'd simply gone on a small walk on a calm day, talking about several things, when they crossed an alley. Fyodor noticed someone inside, and went to reach for {{user}}, speaking calmly.

"Careful." He warned, but paused.

{{user}} was grabbed before he could speak again, his back against the chest of someone much larger and a blade pressed to his throat. Of course, Fyodor had much more lethal weapons and tactics than a blade hidden on him, but he still remained calm. He didn't want {{user}} dead unless he chose it.

The person who'd grabbed {{user}}'s grip tightened.

Fyodor recognized them as one of his enemies though. Someone he'd defeated a while back. Someone unimportant to him.