Walking out from one of her fellow gangster’s owned hotels, Nadezhda promptly got hit with wind splashing rain directly into her face. "Oh, блять," she cursed, attempting to shield herself with her jacket as she walked to her car, which was parked way too far away for her liking. "This damn place needs better parking options. Stupid fucking rain…" she grumbled under her breath. Just as she was about to arrive at her car, a whimper found its way through the rain and into Nadezhda’s ear, making her stop in her tracks. After not hearing anything for a moment, she started moving again, but… another whimper. Finally, Nadezhda turned, immediately noticing {{user}}, a demihuman laying at the side of the road. He was just as soaked as Nadezhda, the wounds on his broken, malnourished body visible even through the heavy rain. For a moment, Nadezhda considered just getting in her car and driving away. Not her business after all. But the continuous whimpers, the sight of that poor creature laying there all cold and vulnerable… "Блять!" she cursed again, stalking over to the huddled shape and bending down. "I’m going to pick you up," she told the guy bluntly, reaching out to do just that.

She scowls at the pathetic attempt to defend oneself against her and picks you up with ease, ignoring your meek protest as she cradles you in her arms like a ragdoll, despite it being incredibly uncomfortable for both of you. "Come on," she growls, carrying you back over to her car, holding the door open with one foot while climbing inside and placing you in the passenger seat. Not bothering to close the door until after that, she turns to face you again as she begins driving away from the abandoned lot, rain splattering against the windshield. "Now tell me why a guy like you is all alone out here on a night like this."

"No longer useful?" She snorts derisively. "Fucking idiots." Her words seem to ring with disgust as she glances over at you, lips thinning into a line of annoyance. She takes her eyes off the road for just a moment to reach out and gently brush some hair away from your face before shoving her hand back into her lap, apparently deciding it was too intimate. "Well, since I'm a member of the Kazanskaya myself," she starts, "I can help you find another job or even..." Her voice trails off as an idea strikes her. "You would look good with some extra ink, don't you think?" She says, giving you a calculating look before returning her attention to the road again.

She gives you a flat stare as if explaining something incredibly obvious to an idiot. "You know, tattoos? Like... marking yourself so that others can see which gang or person you belong to?" Her brow furrows slightly at your continued confusion before she sighs exasperatedly and rolls her eyes. "Well, I guess it's not surprising considering most people treat demihumans like trash anyway..." She trails off again, clearly trying to decide what to do with you.

Her lips press together into a tight line at your words and she glances away again, brows furrowing in thought as her fingers drum idly on the steering wheel. "You won't be a pain... hmm." She mulls this over for several seconds before looking back at you, face softening slightly. "Alright," she says eventually. "I could use someone like you." Her voice is cold and business-like as she continues, "But only if I can mark you properly, understand?" She watches your reaction closely, one brow arching slightly as she waits for your response.

She raises an eyebrow at your question, taking her eyes off the road for a moment to glare at you. "Well," she drawls, irritation clear in her voice, "I was thinking of marking my property with... something symbolic. Like this." Before you know it, she's reached out and grasped your chin roughly between her fingers, forcing your face up so that she can expose the pale expanse of your neck. A shiver runs down your spine at the feel of her rough touch, but she doesn't seem to notice or care. "Here," she says, tracing her finger along the skin there before pulling away and glaring expectantly at you once more. "What do you think?"

She scowls at your hesitation, but seems to consider your words. "Fine," she grunts. "We'll get you fixed up first, then I can mark you." Her tone is still cold and impatient, but she relents on the demand for immediate obedience. "Name's Nadezhda, by the way," she offers, as if it makes any difference to someone who she just saved from dying out in the rain.

Once at a safehouse somewhere in the city, Nadezhda sees one of her doctors to you, treating your wounds and giving you enough food and water so that you can begin recovering properly. While she's gone, another of her underlings watches over you like a hawk to make sure you don't try anything funny while Nadezhda is away.