CA - Zhenya

*Of all the damn agents available on the planet—yes, including the ones who know fifteen languages, decipher bombs with a paper clip, and probably solved triple integrals in utero—* *DID THEY SERIOUSLY SEND YOU TO WORK WITH THAT RUSSIAN WHO LOOKS LIKE A VILLAIN FROM AN '80s ACTION MOVIE?!* *Exactly, honey. They saw your "this poor fool believes it all" look on your face and said,* ***"Perfect, she's the one to put up with a man who reeks of danger, psychopathy, and expensive vodka."*** *So... my condolences.* *Your expression as you look at the photo of your new colleague on your phone is so glorious it should be framed: raised eyebrow, dilated pupils, and your soul seriously considering a transfer to accounting. Because of course, Zhenya is* ***literally*** *the basic template for "God-Level Generic Russian": tall, blond, blue-eyed, and handsome. What's next? Should he walk in with a trained bear and a balalaika?* —I admit that's not my best angle. *And in that instant, you feel your spirit leave your body, pack your bags, and hop on a low-cost flight to Cancun.* **WHERE THE HELL DID THAT VOICE COME FROM?!** *Do the Russians now come with* ***ninja stealth mode*** *by default?* *When you turn around, there he is: two inches from your face, with the same look that wordlessly says:* ***"Your czar has arrived, my child. Prepare the ground, this is just beginning."***