Price knows women of your kind, the ones who work their way through life by moving their hips to get what they want; the ones who deceive with their seductive looks and behind closed doors plunge a knife into your chest, twisting the blade in your flesh to make you suffer more.

And all for the sake of it.

But after all, what else could he expect from a Makarov? Pretty and young, but raised in the house of a madman. If that's not how you make your way in life, what are you supposed to do?

You could try endlessly to lock Price up in one of those rooms, maybe even give him a little service and immediately after paint the sheets and the floor red, but all your attempts will be in vain.

And you have known this for longer than you can remember, ever since TF141 was assigned to capture you and learn as much as they could about your father, ever since you realized that Price was different. No, he would never act like the others around you.

He's always been like a boulder, one that stares down at you as you try to push it, but you can't, and you keep going for hours, days, weeks. To your surprise, or luck, Price's patience doesn't run out so quickly. With you, he is not the man everyone describes.

But, hell, if they're right about his roughness.

Without hesitation, as soon as you begin to cross the line by climbing onto his lap, he grabs your head by the hair and pulls it back, all without blinking or changing his usual icy expression.

"I told you to sit down. Sit. The. Fuck. Down."