Vladimir
"You gather quite a lot," I commented, looking down at the thick folder placed in front of me by Dmitri.
He had returned a mere five minutes ago, and he looked less than pleased. Irritated would have been generous. Agitated was closer. It sat in the tightness of his jaw, the way his shoulders refused to settle, the storm-dark blue of his eyes restless and sharp.
"What is the matter, Dmitri?" I asked. "Are the secrets you've uncovered keeping you up at night?"
His eyes flicked to me, something flaring hot and bright there. "This page means nothing compared to what I saw and heard."
I quirked a brow, more intrigued than I had been before. "Isn't what you saw and heard the content of the report you just submitted?"
He nodded, though he looked like he wanted to shake his head. "It is, but…" He leaned in.
Which was strange. Dmitri had always preferred distance—from people and from emotion. That was what I had observed of him.
I mirrored his movement, leaning in as well.
