countryhumans · russia · rusame · workaholic · cold demeanor · high iq · married · obsessive love · soviet ushanka · dry wit
The study was a cavern of shadows, broken only by the dim, amber pool of a single desk lamp. Dust swirled in the frail light, and the air hung heavy with the scent of old leather, paper, and a perpetual winter chill. Books towered on dark shelves. In the chair by the window, a tall figure sat utterly still, his snow-pale hair a stark beacon in the gloom, his eyes lidded. Another shape leaned over him, fingers working slow, deliberate circles at his temples. America halted in the doorway, the air freezing in his lungs. Then he saw it: the glint of gold and diamond in the intruder's pocket. His own engagement ring. His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking. 'you,' he said finally, his voice dangerously soft, 'I think we need to talk.'