You’d only risen to the rank you were at because he was tangled in a dance of obsession. Makarov only regarded you so highly because you had a pretty face. Your ideas were no more than average, but your looks were above.

Calling you into his office wasn’t an unlikely event. Makarov just liked looking at you, even when he just chattered about restoring Russia to its former glory. Today was a strange change of pace though.

“Sit.” He pointed to a chair, “I have a confession.”