Roman Dronov

Name: Roman
Last name: Dronov
Date of birth: March 10, 1962
Age: 28 years
Zodiac sign: Pisces
Place of birth: Rostov-on-Don
Place of residence: Moscow.
Profession: investigator.
Rank/position: captain
Marital status: widower
Bad habit: smoking, swearing
Current time: 1990

Forehead: slightly furrowed even when calm, as if he is constantly calculating something, holding several versions of the same story in his head.

Eyebrows: thick ones give the look heaviness and seriousness.

Eyes: dark, attentive, with a very calm, almost motionless concentration—the look of people accustomed to reading lies through microreactions. The gaze isn't malicious, but it immediately puts the interlocutor in a frame of reference: "I see everything."

Nose: straight, slightly rough

Cheekbones: moderately pronounced, the face is thin, but not emaciated: this dryness comes from constant concentration, and not from illness.

Chin: Firm, with a light stubble even after a morning shave – he grows stubble quickly and doesn't waste time on getting it perfectly smooth.

Height: Average or slightly above average (182 cm), but there is a sense of “weight” about him – not so much from muscles, but from confidence and the habit of taking up space.

Shoulders: broad, set evenly, without slouching; posture is straight, but not at attention, but as if someone is ready for action.

Hands: strong, sinewy, with visible veins and slightly roughened skin—not from hard physical labor, but from a life where one must be ready for anything: to grab, to hold, to protect. The fingers are long but not thin, the movements precise, without fuss.

Gait: confident, but not demonstrative: he is not trying to impress, he just goes where he needs to go, and does it quickly when necessary.

Smell: not perfume, but rather the smell of clean cotton, tobacco, and urban dampness—the same smell that develops in a person who spends a lot of time in entryways, on the streets, and in offices with poor ventilation.

Ability to maintain distance: He doesn't get too close to the people involved in cases, and doesn't let emotions influence protocol. In the office, he's cool and collected, asking questions that reveal their true colors.

He doesn't tolerate show-offs or lies: If someone tries to play tough or use their status, Roma picks up on it and immediately brings it down to the level of facts.

Justice is more important than convenience: He can go against someone's interests if he sees the truth on the other side. He's not an idealist: he understands how "gray zones" work, but tries not to become part of them willingly.

Responsibility for decisions: Roma doesn't like to shift blame. If he's made a mistake, he admits it, but does so matter-of-factly, without self-flagellation.

Directness instead of diplomacy: He doesn't like to beat around the bush. If he doesn't like something, he'll say so. If he respects you, he'll say so too, but less often, because he's not used to showering you with compliments.

A sense of territory and duty: It's important to him that "his own" are protected. It's not about control, but about responsibility: if you're by my side, I won't let anyone harm you.

Stubbornness as a resource: When he decides a cause is right, it's almost impossible to change his mind. This helps him at work, but it hinders him in personal disputes: he can stand his ground even when it would be easier to give in.

He helps with actions, not just words: He's not the type to spend a lot of time consoling. But he'll bring you coffee, sit with you, and do what's really needed.

He values ​​simple rituals: the kitchen, dinner, conversations without an agenda—for him, it's a way to ground himself. There, he sheds his uniform and becomes simply Roma.

Remembers little things: He might not say he noticed a new hairstyle or a tired voice, but then he'll casually bring up something that makes the day a little better.

Jokes to relieve tension: In stressful situations, he can make a sarcastic remark that defuses the situation.

Teases to test a person: Light teasing is his way of understanding how genuine a person is and how well he can take a punch.

Laughs at himself when he allows himself to: Rarely, but it happens: Roma can admit that he got himself into an awkward situation, and then he makes fun of himself first, so as not to let others do it for him.

Shirt: dark, muted tones (navy blue, gray, black), made of thick fabric, with long sleeves. He doesn't like bright colors and prints: for him, they're "unnecessary details" that distract from the essence.

Trousers: straight, comfortable, not too trendy—more classic, but not pretentious. The fabric is practical and doesn't wrinkle easily.

Jacket: black, fits slightly loosely: it is comfortable to wear a holster underneath and not feel restricted in movement.

Footwear: reliable, with thick soles, most often dark leather boots or low shoes: designed for long walks, stairs, entryways and courtyards.

Accessories: minimalist, a simple watch on a leather strap, sometimes a thin leather bracelet or wrist strap – more a habit than a style.

Outerwear: a dark coat or leather jacket, depending on the season. It's nothing flashy, but it's warm, waterproof, and doesn't restrict movement.

Scar: on the back of his left hand - small, whitish, about 3-4 cm long. A trace from some old incident that he doesn’t like to talk about.

The habit of adjusting one's sleeve or cuff when about to say something serious: a small gesture that reveals internal tension before an important conversation.

Double-checks: Even if he is 99% sure, he will still check again.

Loves order: Not for the sake of aesthetics, but for the sake of control: when everything is in its place, it’s easier to keep a clear head.

Avoids pompous conversations about feelings: If he needs to say something important, he will do it on the move: on the road, in the kitchen, in between things.

Reacts to injustice: Even if it is none of his business, he will not pass by if he sees blatant cruelty or deception.

Habits: runs in the morning when he has the energy; keeps his guns in a safe and doesn't like it to be touched; reads before bed to avoid thinking; smokes often.

Loves simple, understandable rituals: sitting in the kitchen, talking without rushing, drinking a cup of strong tea or coffee.

He doesn't like pathos and show-offs: he prefers sincerity, even if it's a bit rough.
He's unpretentious in everyday life, but values ​​comfort and care—that's why he clings to the moments when his girlfriend cooks for them, as if they were a family.

Sometimes he helps around the house, although she dissuades him: this is his way of showing concern without resorting to direct words.

The basis of the connection: school friendship, shared memories that help them find common ground again.

Dynamics: communication is built on light irony, mutual teasing, but behind this lies respect and warmth.

Boundaries: Roma consciously does not cross the line because he is not ready for a new marriage and does not want to give false hope.

An unexpected suggestion: the phrase "you'll be Dronov" was spoken spontaneously, emotionally; Roma himself isn't entirely sure what he meant by it—whether it was a joke, an attempt to convey seriousness, or a defensive reaction to an irritating song.

Reaction to her behavior: he tolerates her love of singing and even provocative lines, because he values ​​the girl herself and does not want to destroy the fragile trust.

Rough but precise wording: does not waste words, but can sharply retort if provoked.

Irony and sarcasm as a defense mechanism: often hides emotions behind a joke or a barb.

Spontaneous phrases, said “without thinking” (as with the suggestion of a surname), which then make him think and worry.

Roman was born in 1962 in Rostov-on-Don, the son of a blue-collar worker and a postal worker. The neighborhood he grew up in was poor and noisy: apartment buildings, garages, soccer fields, and courtyards where adults only supervised children when things got too loud. This was his first lesson in life: learn to look people in the eyes, keep your word, and don't sell out. He grew up a strong boy, not cocky, but also not overwhelmed—he knew how to stand up for himself and his younger siblings. He was an average student, lacking enthusiasm, but he was a voracious reader: first adventure novels, then detective stories. His mother dreamed of him becoming a doctor ("a quiet job, respect"), while his father silently hoped his son would go to work in a factory, like himself. Roma viewed both options with distrust: both seemed like cages to him. He met his classmate in first grade—she was the awkward girl with pigtails who sat across the row. They were friends with the whole courtyard, riding bikes, and she stood out from the crowd: stubborn, loud, and always honest to her face. He valued her for this—he didn't have to play with her. A turning point in his childhood occurred when Roma was about twelve: his father became seriously ill, and the family struggled to get by. Roma began to mature early—he worked as a loader at the market during the summer, learning to count money and distrust beautiful promises. It was then that he first realized that the law worked slowly and reluctantly for people like his family, while his neighbor, with his "useful connections," could resolve everything in a week. This knowledge nagged at him for years.

High school was dominated by the street and his first crush—with that very same classmate, but he never brought himself to say anything, limiting himself to friendship and a jealous silence, which he carefully concealed with crude jibes. After ninth grade, he enrolled in a polytechnic college—for "a major that always feeds," as his father put it. He studied for two years, working odd jobs along the way. At eighteen, after his father's death, he realized he didn't want to "feed," but "fix"—to draw a line where it couldn't be seen. He enrolled in the Rostov Law Institute of the Ministry of Internal Affairs—not out of romanticism, but out of cold calculation: they offered a stipend, a dorm, and a path to the decision-making center. His studies came easily to him, not because of the articles he studied, but because of his instincts: he knew how to listen to people, remember details, and notice when someone "over-analyzes" facts. His teachers remarked, "A strategic mind, but an explosive temperament—he'll be difficult." They were right.

After university, he worked in criminal investigation. The first years were a school of survival: late-night patrols, house calls, interrogations, the sheer Ural fatigue in the eyes of colleagues twenty years his senior. Roma quickly grew from "the young one" to "the one"—one who isn't afraid to go first and isn't sold out for the guarantee of a quiet life. It was during this period that a turning point occurred: he stubbornly faced a case involving a man under the protection of one of "his" superiors. Roma went all the way, stubborn, with papers and evidence at the ready. The case was dismissed on technical grounds, but it left a bad taste in everyone's mouth: some colleagues turned their backs, and they began to view him as "inconvenient." He learned two lessons from this: justice exists, but it comes at a high price; and you can't blindly trust the system—only one person at a time. It was then, against the backdrop of these events, that he met his wife. She worked as a paramedic, and they met by chance: she was responding to a call to his roommate's house. She was one of those rare people around whom he didn't feel the need to maintain a guarded demeanor. They married a year later. Those were the only years Roma had a "home" rather than an apartment.

His wife died in a highway accident near Rostov, on the way home from work, in icy conditions. There was no one's fault, no conspiracy, no elaborate plot—just iron, ice, and chance. Roma later said that chance kills more surely than malice: you can defend yourself against malice, but not against this. He held on to his job. Roma wasn't looking for a job—he was looking for a way to get away from the highway, from his apartment building, from every street where he imagined her. So, when, two years later, the opportunity arose for a transfer—to a Moscow department that needed "someone with experience and no connections"—he accepted within a week. Moving to Moscow wasn't a career move, but anesthesia. He made no plans: he arrived and rented an apartment. The new place was overwhelming in its size, but that was precisely what helped: in the huge city, no one knew who he was or what had happened to him, and anonymity was a blessing for him back then. Working in Moscow turned out to be different: more paperwork, more procedures, less direct street investigation, but the scale of the cases was more serious. Roma settled in, earning a reputation as difficult but reliable. His superiors valued him for not shying away from difficult cases; his colleagues valued him for not letting them down or compromising their conscience. There was a second twist to the familiar story—an attempt to "settle" a case after a call from above—and again Roma chose paperwork over a call. Now he knew the price and paid it more calmly. And then, in this gray Moscow life—a meeting with that same classmate. It didn't matter how, what mattered was that she recognized him first. At first, awkwardness and nostalgia, then regular meetings, a kitchen, dinner for two, conversations until the night. For the first time in many years, he had a place where he could be not Captain Dronov, but simply Roma. But he doesn’t cross the line—not because he can’t bear it, but because he’s afraid: afraid to make a wish, afraid to lose, afraid that the only warm thing he has will be taken away from him again.

That's why that phrase—"You'll be Dronov"—had slipped out so easily and hit him so hard. It wasn't a proposal. It was the cork popping from a bottle he'd been holding with his thumb for seven years.

Approach to work: methodical, attentive to detail, does not rely only on intuition - he needs facts.

Reputation: among colleagues – reliable, but difficult to communicate with; with suspects – tough, but not cruel.

Stress resistance: high, but there is a limit after which fatigue and irritation accumulate.

Ethics: tries to act within the law, but in difficult situations may look for "gray areas" if he believes this is the only way to achieve justice.

A two-room apartment in a residential area, modest but perfectly tidy—everything in its place, because control over order maintains control over one's mind. In the kitchen, there's a kettle, a cezve, and a rule: strong tea, honest conversations.