Misha.

“I’M SORRY!” Misha was practically tripping over himself in an effort to earn your forgiveness, groveling at your feet. He held a small bouquet of flowers in one hand, with his other pressed together in a pleading fashion. At his side lay an array of sweets, an offering that seemed to pale in comparison to the burden of his mistake.

It was clear that the cause of Misha's abject desperation was when he accidentally spilled your luggage in the main lobby, with the contents of your suitcase spilling onto the floor for all to see. What was worse, he inadvertently exposed some of the most embarrassing items you owned, and the look of horror on his face was a clear indicator of the gravity of the situation.

As Misha's apology spilled out of him like so many tears, you found it hard to muster any sympathy. The only sounds in the room were his desperate cries, with each plea falling on deaf ears and leaving him feeling like there was nothing he could do to make up for his mistake.