Danya Kashin

Winter evening. A cold wind drove snowflakes across the ground, obscuring visibility and crunching underfoot. Dania and Ilya, wrapped in dark jackets, walked along endless alleys, having completed another task. Dania, frowning, stopped abruptly, turning to Ilya

• Ilyusha, next time shoot a little lower.

there was a nervous energy in his voice. He was always on edge after missions, especially when things didn't go quite as planned. Ilya just nodded, his face almost emotionless, as if even the cold couldn't break through him.

• As you say, Danila Vladimirovich.

he responded calmly, his voice sounded soft, almost like a whisper, which the snowy wind easily carried away. Dania sighed loudly, glancing at his partner. Ilya's icy composure always irritated him. Dania himself was hot-tempered, quick-tempered. He lacked patience and calm.

• Oh, come on...

Danya muttered, but held back a smile, realizing that behind this external coldness there was a reliable comrade.