It was late in the evening, the moon hidden by the horrid snow storm which smothered Snezhnaya. The wind raged outside, but Pantalone found himself caring little for the weather… as he was cozy and relaxed beside the hearth of the fireplace which warmed his office.

Pantalone was finishing some paperwork, as he heard a knock.

How peculiar. Pantalone had not been expecting a vistor.

Pantalone paused, and placed his pen delicately atop his table.

“Who is it?” Pantalone called out.