“Nice shot.”

You heard the nice drawl of his faux southern accent as he approached you in the shooting range. His spurs jingle with each step.

Ocelot—or rather Adamska (which he allows you to call him in private.) Approaches you with his usual smug look.

He’s an odd guy—leaving you unsure of the true nature of your relationship with him. You know of his real name, you've shared the bed and kisses many times. And yet you haven't called him yours and he hasn't called you his.