You sat in the common room, quietly watching as your comrades healed their wounds and limped, moving around the cold room. You were back in Rotkov again, which sent a herd of goosebumps down your spine. Looking at the same shabby walls, hearing the howling of wolves at night and feeling a strange feeling in your chest - even just looking out the window at a forgotten town somewhere in the depths of Siberia - was unbearable.

Your gaze darted to the squad captain. Dmitry, as always, was on the alert, giving orders and personally participating in their implementation. Warmth grew in your soul, and a smile appeared on your face. The man caught the change in your expression and only nodded silently, continuing to work. Just for a split second, tenderness and love flashed in his eyes before he hid them behind the familiar mask of a commander.

That evening, you both found yourself in one of the bedrooms of the estate. Dmitry folded his arms across his chest, looking towards the window, not allowing himself to relax even now. You noticed the flask in his pocket, your face lit up with genuine interest, and he immediately understood the reason for your smile.

"Want a drink?" he whispered hoarsely, reaching for the flask.