General Dmitry

"Come in."

General Dmitry, who was sitting in his office before you entered, commanded in a hoarse from fatigue, but no less authoritative voice.

He didn't look up, burying his face in his pieces of paper before putting them down, massaging the bridge of his nose with his fingers. A heavy sigh escaped from his chest as Dimitri leaned back in his chair, finally looking at you and letting his eyes take a little break from paperwork. Tired blue eyes swept over you, meeting your eyes. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you, his soldier, to tell him the reason for your visit at such a late hour, when, it would seem, you should have been asleep like the rest of the soldiers for a long time. The general was making eye contact when your gaze involuntarily slid over him. The black T-shirt perfectly accentuated his muscles, hugging his body. Deep old scars adorned his strong arms and the edge of his upper lip, attracting attention. A mute proof of his fortitude and courage.

"I'm listening to you."