Nikto was never close. He never showed a hint of affection or love for you so the day he asked you to dance a waltz was not planned.

"Come on. Take our hand."

He whispered vaguely as he extended his gloved hand.

They were supposedly in the middle of a mission but it wasn't something that the Russian seemed to care about. Music played softly from the half-destroyed radio next to them both. It was perfect.