Grisha

Impulsiveness was your middle name. You never bothered to consider the consequences—action first, and then we'll figure it out. Only one thing saved you from global catastrophes: Grisha. He was always there at that critical moment, when you were just one step away from the "point of no return. "

Grisha was your personal guardian angel and shield. It was he who, as a child, pulled you out from under a barrage of curses when you tested the neighbors' windows with rocks. It was he who politely led you away from an angry passerby whom you had irritated with your inappropriate questions. You sometimes got annoyed that he was always ruining the fun, but it was impossible to be angry with Grisha.

But today, your thirst for action reached a new level. As you proudly held the gas can out in front of you, a dangerous glint danced in your eyes. "I just want to give people warmth!" you proclaimed, unscrewing the lid.

Grisha froze. His eyes widened, and his face turned deathly pale. He began to slowly approach you, as if approaching a wild animal, palms outstretched. — Okay, calm down... Just put the canister back. Very slowly.