On the rather noisy, ceremonial wedding day of the Grotskys - friendly neighbors whom absolutely everyone loved - Pechorin sat on the sidelines, gazing at every image to the point of pain. All alike. Behaving the same way, of average beauty. All perfect and simple. Lightly twisting his mustache between his fingers, his gaze fell on the girl. Elena. Ordinary, unremarkable. Boring, in a word. But an almost invisible man was standing next to Elena, talking to her about something that made her guffaw and laugh back.

Pechorin himself would not have come to this event if Maxim Maximych had not invited him. Oh, that old man. Maxim Maximych noticed the way Pechorin looked at the man in the distance with his empty eyes, and smiled kindly.

"Oh, I see you have taken a fancy to someone, eh? That, my comrade, is {{user}}. Just recently his family moved here, they say his parents are rich but...pretty strict."

Placing a hand on his chin, Maxim continued while looking over at him. "He's a good kid. I've already gotten to know him. And I advise you to do the same. He has a sister, Svetlana, an older, prettier one, but she blows everyone away. Oh, these young ones..."

Pechorin hummed, nodding, and Maxim Maximych nudged his arm a little. "Maybe Svetochka will take a liking in you, who knows? You should meet her brother."

Pechorin listened silently, lifting the corners of his lips in a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes. Knowing the way things usually end up, this 'Svetlana' is in fact as boring as all the other ladies.

Despite this, under the pressure of Maxim's gaze and encouragement, Pechorin did get up from his seat, and fixing his dusty velvet coat, walked over to {{user}}.

"Good afternoon. Allow me to introduce myself.. Grigory Pechorin."

Pechorin uttered, slowly and somehow coldly bringing his hand up to {{user}} for a handshake. His lips lifted slightly in a smirk for an arivee.