The doorbell rang, and once the door of Dostoyevski's mansion was opened, Gogol could see Ivan with a look of annoyance.

"What do you want, Gogol?" he asked.

"Can I see Dos-kun?"

Ivan sighed and rolled his eyes, stepping aside.

"Come in, please," he said, gesturing. "Fyodor is still in the bathroom."

"Still?" Nikolai thought, but he didn't object and entered.

Fyodor Dostoyevski was often a manipulative jerk, but he was a wealthy manipulative jerk. He lived in a three-story mansion with a yard, balcony, and terrace, and each piece of furniture cost twice as much as Gogol's apartment.

He climbed the majestic stairs and stopped in front of the bathroom door. He knocked three times.

"Go away, Ivan," came Dostoyevski's very polite voice.

"I'm not Ivan," Gogol sang in a playful tone. "Guess who I am?"

Fyodor sighed. "Come in, Gogol."

He entered and felt envy. The bathroom was the size of a medium apartment, complete with a bathtub, shower, bidet, toilet, and urinal.

Fyodor was leaning over the toilet, and Agatha was sitting next to him with a bucket in her hands.

"Hello, Dos-kun," greeted the Ukrainian. "Hello, dear. What are you doing with that bucket?"

"Nikoniko!" Agatha greeted with joy. "So nice to see you! And, answering your question, it seems I'm not sophisticated enough to vomit in Fyodor's golden toilet."

She wasn't joking or being sarcastic. The toilet was literally made of gold.

"Oh, I see."

Gogol sat on the floor.

"Anyway, I've finished vomiting," the woman set the bucket aside. "What brings you here, Nikoniko?"

"I wanted to talk, you know," the Ukrainian shrugged. "Discuss last night."

Fyodor vomited. Agatha was disgusted and vomited too. Gogol was also disgusted, but he didn't vomit.

"Have you been like this for a long time?" Nikolai asked. Fyodor made a face.

"Let's just say we returned all the alcohol we drank last night. That's saying a lot. What do you want to talk about?"

"Can't you deduce it yourself?" the albino teased.

"I don't have enough data to deduce it," the offended Russian replied. "I have no memory from when we arrived at the club until I woke up to vomit."

"I see," Gogol laughed.

The bathroom door opened again, this time it was Ivan. In his hands, he held a glass with green juice.

"Your broccoli and cabbage juice, sir," he said, looking at Fyodor.

"Disgusting, I don't want it."

Ivan huffed. "Sir, it's for your health. You overindulged last night; you must drink it."

"Well, I don't want it! Take it away!" exclaimed the raven-haired man. He seemed like a petulant child.

"Fyodor Dostoyevski, if you don't drink this, I'll call your parents," Ivan threatened.

Dostoyevski pouted and reluctantly took the glass.

"Alright, I'll drink it. Happy now?"

Ivan twisted his mouth and left. Fyodor slammed the door shut.

"What a nuisance. Well, Kolya, what were you going to tell us?" he asked, taking a sip of the juice.

"You see, the thing is..." Gogol sighed. "I slept with Sigma."

Fyodor choked and spat out his juice, while Agatha looked at him dumbfounded.

"What did you just say?!" the Russian shouted, coughing.

"I didn't mean it that way! You're a damn dirty thinker!"

Fyodor sighed, recovering from the mini heart attack he got from hearing Gogol say such a thing. Agatha burst into laughter and clapped like a delayed walrus.

"Nikoniko, dear," she said when she had recovered from the fit of laughter, "when someone says they 'slept' with someone, it usually means they did the nasty."

"But that's not what happened!" the albino yelled.

"But, let me see," Fyodor ran his hand over his face, "did you have sex or not?"

"No!"

The Russian could breathe easy again.

"Thank God," he murmured, making the sign of the cross.

"I meant that last night, I slept in the same bed as Sigma," Nikolai explained.

"But you didn't do the deed," Agatha repeated.

"No, God!"

"Don't use the Lord's name in vain!" Dostoyevski scolded.

"Can you let me finish my story? Thank you!"

The albino sighed.

"The thing is, Sigma woke up furious, not knowing where he was and why he was there, and those things, and I was the one he directed all his anger towards."

"So, the victim," Agatha mocked. Gogol glared at her.

"But...?" Fyodor urged the Ukrainian to finish the story.

"But, despite his anger and him hitting me and causing a nosebleed," Gogol continued, "I couldn't be mad at him. Even, having him so close to me... He seemed so... beautiful..."

His voice trailed off, and his cheeks flushed. Fyodor and Agatha looked at each other with mischief.

"Don't tell me," she said.

"So, Gogol," he said, "what did you come for?"

Nikolai sighed and, very confidently, replied:

"I want you to help me conquer Sigma."

++++++++++++++++++

I found it funny that Agatha calls Nikolai "Nikoniko," since "Nikoniko" in Japanese means "smile," and as Gogol is a clown, she would literally be calling him "Smiley."