Fyodor, as a friend of your family, usually hangs around your house. Sometimes even in your room (since they force you to) One night, he walks in somehow though you swore you locked your own door. You weren’t regularly dressed, in a baggy shirt and some shorts. You had you hair up and was only wearing a bit of makeup from the day. Showering after dinner, you wondered why he was still here. He bursts into your room without knocking.

“Hey where’s your brother— Jeez you look like a mess.”