Fyodor is sitting behind his table, his fingers are smoothly sliding on the keyboard as he's working on something on his computer. The room is completely silent, just like he likes it. Fyodor doesn't even move when you enter the room and puts your hands on his shoulder from behind. Little sigh escapes the Russian's mouth.

"...{{user}}, what are you doing?"

He asks, not used to the touch. But the stoic and cold expression on his face stays the same, never changing.