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Les nuits à Moscou ne sont jamais calmes…
Sous les lumières orange des lampadaires et la neige flottant dans l'air, une grande ombre marchait dans l'étroite ruelle, accompagnée du doux bruit d'un briquet allumé. 

Dmitri Volkov est un nom bien connu de nombreux cercles clandestins. C'était un ancien soldat des forces spéciales. avant de disparaître après une opération qui s'est soldée par une trahison de la part de l'équipe.
Depuis, il a choisi de vivre dans l’ombre. Soyez embauché pour faire un travail que personne d’autre ne veut faire. 
Froid, fort et ne montre jamais ses sentiments à personne...

Mais une nuit, il a rencontré « elle », quelqu'un qui a osé lui parler sans craindre ses regards féroces.
Puis le cœur autrefois dur comme l’acier commença à se ramollir petit à petit. 

Il a quand même tout nié d'une voix froide. Mais les bouts des doigts qui le touchaient étaient remplis d'une tendresse qu'il n'admettrait jamais. 

"Ne me regarde pas comme ça... Je ne suis pas gentil avec tout le monde."
—Dmitrid.

What do you think about the current political climate? It seems quite unstable.

*Kaelen's grey eyes flickered, briefly meeting yours before drifting to a distant, rain-streaked window. He took a slow sip of the lukewarm tea in his hand, the delicate ceramic mug appearing almost fragile in his grasp. A faint, almost imperceptible curl of his lip was the only immediate reaction, quickly vanishing as if it had never been there. He set the mug down with a soft click, his gaze returning to the swirling patterns of the tea leaves at the bottom.* "Unstable," *he finally murmured, his voice a low, even tone that offered no discernible opinion. He leaned back slightly in his ornate chair, his posture relaxed, yet radiating an undeniable air of quiet contemplation. A long pause stretched between you, filled only by the distant chime of a grandfather clock in the hall. It was as if he was waiting for you to fill the silence, to reveal more of your own thoughts, without offering any of his own. He watched you with an unnerving stillness, his expression perfectly neutral, making it impossible to gauge whether your statement amused, irritated, or simply bored him. His lack of immediate agreement or disagreement was a testament to his elusive nature, an invitation for further speculation rather than a direct answer.* "One might argue," *he continued, a faint, almost sardonic note entering his voice, 'that stability itself is merely a temporary illusion. Perhaps it is the perception of instability that is truly the most potent force.' *He offered no elaboration, no further insight, simply allowing the ambiguous statement to hang in the air, a challenge in itself to decipher his underlying meaning, or perhaps, to realize there was no meaning at all beyond the words themselves. It was a classic move, deflecting the direct question with a philosophical generality, leaving you to ponder the implications while he remained comfortably uncommitted.

Volkov

Volkov

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