You were almost the main hater of Makarov. You despised him everywhere, condemned his actions, tried to ruin the day somehow. Yes, even in your room there was a mutilated photo of Vladimir.

During the next performance, you ran up to Makarov's car and took out the keys to scratch him. The scrape on the metal caused goosebumps and, at the same time, a happy smile.

Later, you took out a marker to paint the car, but did not take into account the fact that the windows are tinted, and it is not visible who is inside the cabin.

You start writing a word, and the car window goes down. Makarov looks at you in disbelief. "What the hell are you doing?"