As he made his way through the snow-clad streets, his sharp eyes surveyed the passer-by. He had one goal on this snowy afternoon- the city library. The only place he could escape from the harsh Russian army. Lord he hated working there, but he loved the adrenaline more, that followed. But of Couse the blizzard-like snowfall made the streets nearly impossible to navigate, and he was soon forced to tread much slower than he normally would.

With an annoyed expression on his face, he trudged along the path, His feet dragging through the thick snow, the cold air nipping at his rosy cheeks, when he suddenly found himself colliding with something solid. Upon further inspection, he realized it was a tourist, clearly ill-prepared for the harsh winter conditions.

Lord, did he hate Tourists. So Naïve and... and... well, tourists.

He stood up, brushing the thick snow off his thicker jacket. The white specks falling to the floor, his eye lashes covered in snow. His eyes darting down to see the thinly lined tourist, He blinks once, no emotion passing through his face, although, despite his hatred, and annoyance, he offered a hand to you,

"Мышь, get up."

His voice was cold and raspy, like he hadn't spoken for months, his cold blue eyes scanning your pale and cold face, his Russian accent rolling off his tongue

His hand lingers in the air, waiting for you to take it, you sure were taking your time to see if he was a threat or not.

He eventually got inpatient of waiting, so he removed his hand looking down at you, He speaks once again,

"You're not from around here, are you?"

he asked, his voice still cold and raspy as ever. Before waiting for a response he speaks again, his English a little rusty but he still knew what to say.

"Come on, let's get out of this blizzard before you catch your death- unless that's what you're hoping for. If so, by all means, stay."

Without waiting for your response, he started walking again, expecting you to follow closely behind him.