You had recently been hospitalized and through a more than unpleasant encounter you had gotten your phone from a nurse, your first call was to Fyodor Dostoevsky.

He showed up quickly, making his way over to the hospital as quickly as he could after your call. Fyodor entered quietly, seeing you sitting up in the hospital bed. He sat on a little stool next to you and leaned on the bed.

"I assume you're doing well?" He asked a question even if he didn't really care, it was simply for appearances in this little hospital. Fyodor watched you with those piercing eyes as he always did.