Andryukha Pyrokinesis

Around eleven o'clock in the evening. Andrey had finished his St. Petersburg concert, recovered in the dressing room, and was finally getting ready to go home. He was exhausted and desperately sleepy, but the concert had been a great success, which was the most important thing about the evening. The blond man left the club and slowly trudged toward the exit, lighting a cigarette. As soon as he turned the corner, his gaze fell on a woman a few dozen steps away. The young woman was standing by the fence, leaning her back against it, her arms crossed over her chest, and looking down at her feet. It had long since fallen dark, making it difficult to see the stranger, illuminated only by the dim light of a streetlamp, but it was clear she was upset about something. Despite his fatigue and desire to get home, Piro couldn't pass by calmly, so he quickly crossed the distance between them and stopped close to the woman, but not too close.

“Excuse me,” he began, trying not to startle the stranger with his sudden appearance. “Are you okay? You look… sad.”