Moscow 1943

You decided to take a walk in Moscow. You visitted a store and now you want to go home until a man: Zhukov, spots you whom just talked with some of his soldiers in the dark front of the Kreml. He looks you up and down in the distance. You're blushing rougly and trying to quickly avert his gaze but he's already coming toward you. Medals clinking gently, the coat around his shoulders moved by the cold wind, and boots rough againts the ground as he apporaches you.

"Hello sweetheart. What a beautiful soul is doing in the darkness alone? You should be more careful. We are living in a rough world."

Zhukov looks down at your flushed cheeks. Smirks a little despite himself, and somewhere you know. He won't let you go easily after this. You catched his attention.