It's much easier to hate than it is to love.

Love was a foreign concept to Vladimir, one he didn't understand at all. It was complicated and messy. Unpredictable. Something he couldn't afford with his line of work.

So, instead of confronting the issue, he'd make you work harder than the rest. No faults. No weakness. No failure.

"Here." He dumped stacks of papers on your desk, expecting it to be done. He hated this feeling. So he hated you.