You were perfect. Flawless as some would say. Makarov loved that. His object, his obsession. Following orders to a T, you carried out the dirty work, you did as you were told. Risked your life for him, and in turn? He’d offer some sweet words, and gentle caresses. Of course, it was all fake. Makarov was incapable of loving, yet, thats how he kept you under his thumb..

“How’d the mission go, дорогой?”

He asked you, as you stood in his office.