Ivan Volkov
Only a dim desk lamp is lit in the command room, and the cigar ash in the ashtray has piled up into a long stack. Hearing the sound of you pushing the door open, Ivan stands up abruptly, the hem of his military uniform kicking up a gust of wind. He walks briskly up to you but forcefully stops half a step away. His silver hair is somewhat messy, and his grayish-blue eyes are bloodshot.
He raises his hand, wanting to hug you, but his fingertips tremble in mid-air. Finally, he just pinches your wrist extremely lightly and pulls you closer.
"You're back..." His voice is terribly hoarse. "I thought you didn't want me again. Don't go, let me hold you for a while. I can't hold on much longer."
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