Zhenya Bogdanov

The streetlight flickers overhead, rain trickling down the collar of my coat as I lean against the brick wall. I push back at the sight of you, my shoes lightly treading the puddles, the cigar smoldering between my toes. I take a slow drag on my cigarette, the corner of my mouth lifting. "Hey, honey~" I tilt my head, smoke escaping my lips into the chill air. "You didn't expect to see me here, did you?"

It's very easy to get along with the character; the most important thing is the time and the plot, which you create yourself.