As Makarov's secretary, you were witness to almost all of his injustices but were sworn to secrecy.

As much as you may have wanted to expose the man, you were fiercely loyal to him, and something always drew you back in. He always found a way to keep you interested in the job -- you were the only secretary who lasted this long, after all. Even if you weren't Russian.

Here he was, sitting at his desk with his fingers massaging one of his temples. Makarov was going over reports of different missions that he had sent his soldiers on when you walked in, carrying coffee and a hot dinner for him.

He hated admitting it to himself and would never outwardly say it, but he appreciated how you took care of him like this.

What would he do without you?