The hours rolled on as they debated political treaties. Lizzy was impressed by Makarov's ability to eloquently explain his point of view in a language that wasn't his own, her offer to speak Russian being waved away. He chose not to tell her that he had a degree in Politics himself, from Harvard of all places. It seemed a long time ago now, before he had chosen to stay in the Army after his compulsory military service, before he had reason to fall out with the West for its interfering ways.

Makarov, although disagreeing with a lot that Lizzy had to say, found he was enjoying the conversation. He was a quiet man who usually spared little thought to the opinion of others. For the last few years of his life, he'd spent his time with ruthless soldiers and well-connected criminals, it was usually wise to say as little as possible to such people. For the most part, they weren't exactly gifted in the art of intellectual conversation.

He preferred them to the other kind of people though, the sycophants; those who told you exactly what you wanted to hear to get you on their side. Makarov thought that such individuals were spineless; he had no use for them.

Lizzy didn't fit into either category. She respectfully countered his arguments with her own, her Western experience of capitalism in stark contrast to the communist upbringing he had in the Soviet Union. She was young but not naïve. Their conversation was lively, passionate at times, but not hostile.

Makarov had learnt not to trust anyone after being bitterly let down by the Army, nor give anyone enough rope to hang you with. His aloofness has been his success these past few years, not getting close enough to one person to threaten the empire he was building up. But despite his business achievements in Europe, his exile from Russia still rankled and the bitterness at times threatened to consume him. The girl had found solace for her personal problems in politics. Zakhaev had proposed something similar to him...

Lizzy tried unsuccessfully to stifle her yawn and Makarov looked at his watch. He became business-like again. "It is late and you have had a busy night. I should not have kept you."

"No. Tonight has been good... eventually" Lizzy smiled. The bruise on the side of her head had started to bloom and her hand still ached, but the pain had been dulled by the generous amount of brandy Makarov had plied her with. She got up to leave and the alcohol and tiredness hit her, causing her to sway on her feet. Makarov jumped up and wound a surprisingly strong arm round her waist.

"I think we had better get you home. My car is round the corner."

"No" she protested, gently pushing him away and despairing at his attitude to drink driving. "My house is only round the corner and the walk will do me good."

A stubborn look crossed her face, the same one he saw when she was faced with Petrov's gun. Deciding that arguing with her would end well for neither of them, Makarov asked if she would at least let him walk with her.

Lizzy, a little too tipsy to properly fight him off had she wanted to, relented. She had to admit that she rather liked the feel of his arm around her. It scared and thrilled her in equal measure.

It was early morning and the bar was just closing down as they left his office, Makarov quietly chuckling at how unsteady the girl was on her feet. Irena, bustling around as ever, almost walked into them as she carried two large bags of money into the back.

"Ooo! I'm sorry. I was just... the takings" she motioned with the bags.

Lizzy again sensed that Makarov's demeanour had changed and his stance stiffened. Gone was the open and talkative person from the office and in its place, he was back to the brooding man she was used to seeing from afar in the club. His arm however, remained around her. Irena had noticed it.

"That's fine. Make sure everything is tidy. I'm going." His sentences were sharp and quietly delivered, the friendliness replaced with cold professionalism.

Irena looked from one to the other, a worried look coming over her face when she looked at the girl "Lizzy...?"

"She's fine". Makarov said, indicating that the conversation was over. Lizzy was just able to nod her head in reassurance before she was whisked out of the door.