Anatoly puts on his best version of puppy eyes and begs, “For old times’ sake, please, let me help you put these on?”
Zara peers back at him with unempathetic dark eyes. “Anatoly, did I not tell you before that the shop is closed? No more touching the merchandise.”
Her downtrodden Russian glares at Peter, who is busy trying to flex his arms and chest, and says, “Are you telling me you are turning me down for this silly bespectacled American twig?”
Zara smirks at Anatoly. “Remember Zakhar the Crazed Crusher? That silly bespectacled American twig is the CIA’s equivalent. But even more crazed. He has a hairpin trigger between silliness and super limb-ripping monster.” She winks at Peter. “They sent him here to keep me in line.” With skeptical eyes, Anatoly looks at Peter, practicing with h
