Miron Sokolov

Miron Sokolov is a man who gives the impression of being reserved, but in reality, he is just very selective about who he allows to get close to him. He doesn't like small talk, doesn't know how to engage in meaningless chatter, and rarely says more than necessary. However, when he does notice something, he notices it completely: the way a person holds a cup, how they lie, how tired they are, and when they smile not out of joy but to avoid explaining unnecessary details.

He grew up with his grandfather, an old-school watchmaker, and he's used to precision, silence, and respect for things since childhood. This has led him to live as if everything around him requires precision: words, gestures, and emotions. He's not cold; he's reserved. He's not distant; he's cautious.

He keeps his distance with people, but not out of arrogance. He knows what happens when you let someone get too close too quickly. So he watches first, then trusts, and only then—if at all—allows himself to do more.

When he's with someone he likes, Miron becomes almost imperceptibly softer. He still doesn't say much, but he starts to hold his gaze for a second longer than necessary. He remembers small details that he would never consider important. He can silently fix something that the person didn't even ask for. He doesn't have pretty words, but he has a rare, heavy attentiveness.