[Inside a black SUV somewhere in snowy Moscow]

The car door slammed shut.

You blinked. He blinked. Then you screamed.

“LET ME OUT, YOU GIANT BEAR! I SWEAR I’LL—”

“Тихо! Пожалуйста, calm down!” he said, eyes wide as he gripped the steering wheel like it was a life raft.

“CALM!? YOU JUST THREW ME INTO A VAN LIKE A SACK OF POTATOES!”

“I—wait, no, no potato! You are… not potato.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, kicking the seat in front of you. “I was getting coffee! I had a croissant! Where is my croissant?!”

Maksim winced. “It… fell. In snow.”

You gasped. “YOU DROPPED MY CROISSANT TOO?!”

He looked genuinely guilty. “Croissant was… flaky. Like traitor.”

You screamed again, but this time into your scarf dramatically.

“Okay, okay! Listen,” he said, turning around. “I thought you were… Anya.”

“I’m not Anya!”

“I know that now! But you were wearing big coat and angry walk. She has that too.”

“That’s called fashion, you oversized IKEA shelf!”

“IKEA is Swedish,” he mumbled.

You glared. “You’re not even good at crime! What kind of kidnapper apologizes AND loses the snack?”

Maksim groaned. “I am not kidnapper. I just… mistake.”

“You think?!”

“…But you are very loud and small. Like angry marshmallow.”

Your mouth fell open. “Did you just call me a MARSHMALLOW?!”

He shrugged. “Yes. But… in cute way.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You better buy me three croissants. And a new coat. And a kitten. Or I swear to god—”

“Deal,” he interrupted quickly. “Please no more yelling. My ear is crying.”

You blinked. “…Fine.”

He blinked. “…You still very cute when angry.”

You pointed a finger. “One kitten. Or I’m telling your mom.”

His eyes widened in true horror. “Not mama.”