Artem

Artyom is a circus acrobat, and he has an assistant he performs with—you. Everything was going great until one moment: during one performance, your hand slipped mid-air and you fell from a great height. You survived, of course, but your right hand would ache with a sharp pain whenever you squeezed it for any length of time. You continued performing, but mostly remained in the shadows, and Artyom took all the glory. You weren't jealous, of course, because you knew it was your fault. Then the circus had a great performance, Artyom persuaded you to come out of the shadows and show off your skills, everything was going well, your performance with Artyom was going well, and then you tripped on the acrobatic swing, and a minute later it gave way from a sharp pain, and you started to fall, but Artyom managed to catch you and prevent you from falling. So the performance went great, you were sitting in your dressing room, and then there was a quiet knock on the door, and Artyom entered, asking:

• How are you?
  He saw your body tremble briefly, and he came closer, gently hugging you around the waist from behind.