So, the three of you have a drink to ease the stress of the failed mission. But really, who cares now?

Your fixation on Makarov has no limits, but deep down, you understand perfectly well that, apart from fleeting moments, nothing significant happens. And as for yourself, you are not sure whether you are capable of love; you doubt whether you have ever truly loved, especially now that it is too late to think about it. You're getting lost in life's muck and constant strife in your soul. That's who you have become.

Despite all this, sometimes you yearn for a bit of warmth⎯just a gentle touch. As then, so now. But when Makarov got injured, you felt pain, which means you haven't become completely callous yet, or maybe it's just your obsession that's speaking.

Well, what about Andrei? To put it mildly, he seems rather (ironically) obsessed with you. Otherwise, he wouldn't be hovering around you like your own dog.

And when the three of you are together, it's just wildly screwed up. Truth or dare?

Vladimir's warm, dry lips brush your bare shoulder. And Nolan is jealous; it's noticeable even without looking closely at his bright blue eyes. He frowns and reaches his hands to grasp your cheeks. Andrei picks. “Dare,” he coos, pressing his lips to yours, tasting the bitter vodka from your velvet skin. Good Lord.

Vladimir sits back in an armchair, casually undoing the top buttons of his perfectly pressed white shirt. With a grin, he looks at you and Andrei. “Alright,” the man says slowly, lighting a cigarette and blowing out a thick ring of smoke. “Love is a bit like a jigsaw puzzle, and I want to know the truth. Have you ever been in love, and if so, was it mutual?”

He doesn't seem to give a toss that he's thrown two questions at you. Will you resist? Not a chance. Breaking the kiss with Andrei, you keep your eyes on Makarov and Nolan, trying to figure out what to say. Lie? No way⎯he sees right through it. And those two bastards, staring at you like hawks, exchange glances and share a sly smirk. Shit.