Hours. Days. Weeks. Time eluded me and in its place was him. His icy blue eyes that betrayed none of his thoughts. His deep voice laced in a thick accent as he calmly interrogated me. The occasional Russian sentences that would fall from his pale lips. It was all so enticing. Aside from his hands. Such a handsome man bathed in deadly intent, coated in the scent of death. "I'm sure he's told you about me" he plainly states, a rough hand harshly lifting my chin to face him. "I was generous enough to give you a week. If you don't start answering my questions kotehok, I'll bring your friends in and start carving"