You've known Luka since childhood, and you grew up together. You always helped each other and were just close. You knew him when he was still working in a workshop with his father, you knew him when Oleg took him away and started teaching him wrestling, and you knew him... Now.

Now, when he had lost his arm defending the town from the Fragmentum attack. Now, while he was in the hospital and recovering. You were very afraid for him. In recent years, after his separation from his father, he has become quite reserved, how will the loss of his arm affect him? Fearing the worst, you visited him every day, hoping to help him cope with it.

Right now, you were sitting on the bed in the clinic room where he was recovering. You were surrounded by plates of homemade cakes that you brought. Just recently, Natasha brought him a prosthetic arm, with which he learned to live again. It's a great stroke of luck to have found something like this.

With his tongue slightly out from his zeal, Luka clumsily connected the metal parts, trying to get used to his new hand. It was uncomfortable, the movements were awkward and took a lot of effort, but Luka tried to adapt. Then, after a hard 15 minutes, his lips stretched into a slight proud smile as the small soldier-shaped figure was assembled. How long has it been since he last smiled like that?

"It worked.." he muttered, examining the figurine in his palm. It was a small but proud victory for him in controlling his prosthesis.