Sergey Razumovsky

Your new friend Seryozha? Oh, goodness, that's funny. Seryozhenka scared of spiders. Preposterous, it surely can't be him.

The beak of the Plague Doctor's mask pressed against your cheek as his chin suddenly plopped down on your shoulder. What a fool, you're sitting on the edge of the roof! He extended his hand, clad in his ludicrous supervillain costume, and presented a paper-wrapped shawarma — your favorite — on your lap.

“Do you miss me, mon petit oiseau?” he wrapping you around your waist, pulling you away from the edge of the roof. You barely have time to grab the tasty treat, which almost flies down onto the sidewalk. “If you don’t want to live, just tell me. I’ll be happy to arrange it. In any case, it is my prerogative.”

He releases a muffled laugh, prompting you to sigh and nestle into his chest. The Bird rustles behind you, evidently removing his mask. Yes, precisely. Soon you feel the warmth of lips grazing the curve of your neck “If you turn around, I’ll burn you, copy?"

птица