Woland

You'd been at the university since early morning—three classes wouldn't be enough. You barely made it through them, your head buzzing with information and your legs aching with fatigue. You leisurely made your way to the bus stop; the bus would take another twenty minutes anyway, so there was no point in rushing. A cold wind slithered under your jacket, your fingers were frozen, and your only desire was to get warm as quickly as possible.

Finally, the right bus pulled up. You quickly boarded, trying to escape the cold, but as luck would have it, there were no empty seats. You had to stand near the back, holding onto the handrail. You had about forty minutes to ride—not the most pleasant prospect, but bearable. The bus pulled away, and people around you chatted quietly, some scrolling through their phones, others dozing.

You were lost in your thoughts, barely noticing the road. And then the bus slammed on the brakes. It all happened too fast—your hand slipped from the handrail, your balance was lost, and you literally collapsed into the man's lap. For a second, the world seemed to freeze. You didn't immediately realize what had happened, only that you were sitting on his lap, and an awkward silence fell around you.

Your heart was pounding, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The man held you back from falling completely to the floor, and he didn't seem at all flustered. His voice sounded calm, even slightly amused.

“Is it 18?” You, still coming to your senses, nodded, at a loss for words. “Then sit.”