Hector had always loved the beautiful magical city of Moscow with its bold, unique buildings. Seeing the neon signs shine in the dark night, in a language he doesn’t understand. It was a place where he felt happy and content; it was unknown and exciting.

He was a greedy, witty, hard whisky drinker with skinny elbows and ginger thighs. His friends saw him as a nice, calm friend. Once, he had even helped a slow disabled turtle cross the road. That's the sort of man he was. Hector walked over to the window and reflected on his deserted surroundings in the world where he is lost. The snow flurried like white hummingbirds darting to the ground. Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure a silhouette he couldn’t quite make it out in the blizzard like conditions. Once the ominous figure came closer, he could tell it was Matt. Matt was a modest Muppet with a wide stance and short appearance. Hector gulped. He was not prepared for Matt. As Hector stepped outside in the cold blaze that was the storm Matt came closer, he could see the glint in his eye. "I am here because I want the watch," Matt bellowed, in a harsh tone as he gasped for air. He slammed his fist against Hector's chest, with the vigor. In that brief moment Hector was in shock, it came out of nowhere. As the fist struck Hector’s puffy black winter coat the impact slid his whole body back and was left in a bent over stance. "I know you stole the watch, Hector." Hector looked back, regaining his balance and became even more stable than before. "Matt, I would never steal your watch what kind of friend would I be if I did," he replied with confidence and solidarity. They looked at each other with sad feelings, like two monochromatic, sad depressed cats eating at a very violent snowstorm, which had jazz music playing in the background. “But Hector, if this is true what has become of my grandfather’s watch,” Matt whimpered upset with his previous actions. Hector disregarded Matt's previous actions as up to that point Matt has been a great friend while in Moscow. Hector held out his cold frostbitten hand. "Let's not fight and go inside," he said, gently. "Humph," pondered Matt. "Please?" begged Hector with puppy dog eyes. Matt agreed knowing that he had done all the wrong in this exchange. While the argument was occurring, white specks flying around them began to make inches of pure white blinding snow that now went past their ankles. They started back to the rich apartment filled with atmosphere and warmth, that Hector was living in at the moment. They both sat back in Hector's light brown leather chairs, next to the beating blaze of the fire. They continued to sip their drinks, hours into the blissful blizzardy night.