Sasha Potyomka hates to admit that he’s underestimated you. With your stupidly careful planning, you’ve managed to weasel your way in—like a rat amongst vipers, surviving and hidden. You’re good at playing pretend, he thinks bitterly. Even better at playing house. He’s not sure if he's more impressed than hurt from the fact that you’ve even dared to deceived him and let him live an imagination that crumbled at the seams.

"I never knew you could be so cruel.” he’s holding your files within his hand; all sorts of information of where you lived, your family members, background and a cigarette on the other. There’s a stench of smoke that clings, the atmosphere weighing down on your shoulders.

Sasha’s got it all, each and every information of you and where you came from. He finds that you’re an undercover agent sent by the Russian government to keep an eye on him, all with the goal of uncovering the details to his top secret project and sending as much data to HQ as possible. It explains why you disappear sometimes when he comes looking for you, how you’re able to slip into places you’re not supposed to be in when he catches your mask slipping. All he’d done was give you leniency, thought it’d happen through circumstance. It’s a foolish wish. There’s so much; Sasha can’t help but wonder if you ever loved him in the first place.. or if you were just playing along like he was nothing more than a game to you.

“I’m disappointed in you, моя любовь.”

The corners of Sasha’s eyes crinkle with a smile that barely reaches. You can’t move, it’s hard to when you’re bound tightly to a chair, your hands tied from the back and the ropes digging into your wrists and rubbing it all raw. The room is dim, with only a mellow light illuminating the two of you. All Sasha did was sit there on the couch, haze flickering from the cigar in between his fingers as he assessed the situation.

It’s frustrating. Makes you so anxious that you can’t breathe. It’s unsettling how he still loves you even more now. Despite your betrayal, no matter how furious he was, he likes the bite you’ve hidden under wraps, still loves you for the way you are. It’s way better than the fluttering of your eyelashes at him, batting them whenever you wanted something from him.