1
In hindsight, Cassandra should have known better.
She should have been more careful. At this point she has probably broken almost every single one of her rules, but she is in too deep to do something about it now.
Don’t lose the thread.
Don’t lose your cool.
Don’t lose your head.
Don’t lose your faith.
Don’t lose your soul.
Don’t lose complete control.
Too late for that now.
She has been working for the MI6 for years, becoming a good agent, a great one, and this mission was supposed to be her big shot to make herself noticed by the upper levels and be recognized as one, if not the best, in the field. Yet she managed to slip from her perfect record and make the kind of mistake only newbies do. Pathetic.
In her defense nothing about this mission has been normal.
Nothing has gone according to plan, and it’s not like Cassandra can’t deal with accidents, she can improvise when she needs to, but things have started going sideways since the beginning.
He drops the folder on the desk a few inches away from her face. The name is inked in blue.
Her eyebrow quirks up. “Project Moonstone? Really? A bit over the top don’t you think?”
“You are here to follow the mission, agent Knight. Not offering your input on the process of naming.”
She raises both her hands in acceptance, apparently today F is not in the mood of jokes, but again, he never really is. Still, he looks more tense than usual, Cassandra has learned to decipher him in time.
“Must be pretty high level.”
He scoffs. “We are talking about a possible diplomatic catastrophe if you fail.”
“No pressure then. Don’t worry though, I am not going to fail.”
“I surely hope so. Because if you do, America and Russia might start a conflict.”
That piques her interest.
“Since when do we get involved in their messes? Shouldn’t this be a CIA or a KGB’s matter?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
Starting to realize the price at stake is higher than usual, Cassandra straightens herself on the chair, picking up the file to browse it. It’s mostly pictures of blurry faces, possible targets, she assumes, or witnesses, but if they called her, they are probably the first option. She usually gets summoned when they need a clean and quick job.
That’s why she is surprised when F says: “It’s a retrieve mission.”
“You are sending me to…” she turns the page where the location name pops up, “Monaco? To retrieve something? Don’t you usually use Fitzherbert for this kind of things?”
F sighs. “Rider is not the most suitable option this time, we need someone more… subtle. And that can act accordingly if something goes wrong.”
Now that’s more likely.
“What’s this Moonstone?”
“It’s a codename for a drive. It contains the names, the aliases, and the locations of every CIA and KGB agent currently working on the field.”
Cassandra narrows her eyes. “Why just them? Why not MI6 too? Or other countries’ agencies?”
F smirks, she probably asked the right question. “Two weeks ago a direct message got sent to the head of the CIA and to the KGB too. The message contained a location and a date with a time. Only thanks to a few of our agents we managed to snatch this data.”
“Do we know who sent it?”
“Not yet, but we can’t do much without the original message. The point is, someone was able to hack both CIA and KGB’s servers, put all this information on a drive and is now blackmailing two of the most advanced secret agencies of two very powerful and, let’s be honest, unpredictable countries. They invited them to Monaco, and whoever of the two parties will bid the highest offer in three weeks, on 3rd July, at 18 pm, will get the drive. This is not only a matter of which agency will get to keep their secrets, however this ends, one of them will be exposed to the other, and we can’t put our trust in the good faith of the winner. This could unbalance the status quo, the thin agreements that regulate peace between countries. This could mean war.”
Cassandra drinks in every word he says, she can’t deny the feeling of pressure starting to creep in, but she has learned to keep her emotions in check since she was a child, she will get this job done, or at least try to, at the best of her capabilities.
“As a third and impartial party, we have to intervene and prevent this diplomatic disaster. That’s why I am sending you to retrieve the Moonstone. You have to be smart, quick, and get it before any Russian or American agent. You have permission to do whatever it takes for the sake of the mission. It’s unlikely that both agencies aren’t already aware of us knowing, but they can’t ask us directly to step aside, it will reveal the breach, and also their deeper meaning. I am not going to sweeten this for you, they will try to stop you, with any means necessary.”
Meaning, they will try to kill her. They won’t care she is an agent working to keep the peace, they will just see her as an obstacle to their goal. Something to wipe off without even blinking.
“We will be with you every step of the way, you won’t be on your own, but there is only much the MI6 can do to assist you. If something happens, we will not be able to do anything without risking of being accused of interfering in political matters. This is a level-up-secret-mission of an already top-secret mission.”
He is implying that if she gets caught or killed on the field, she will simply be abandoned and forgotten for the sake of the façade of the country. She can’t say she is surprised, these are the perks of the job too.
She clears her throat. “So what I am hearing is that the moment I get my hands on this Moonstone, every Russian or American in the range of miles will come for my head. And if I am not the one to get it, there will be Third World War? Or am I missing something?”
F can’t help but chuckle, it’s deep but there is no real humor in it. “Basically, yes.”
“Great, when do we start?”
Cassandra dreads the fact that soon she will have to go.
The clock on her nightstand strikes 17, but the alarm has barely the time to blast, she is already turning it off, preventing it from waking the figure sleeping beside her.
She should start to get ready, but it’s hard to, when she stops to think about how this is the most peaceful she has ever been, and especially, seen her. Her platinum blonde hair is messily framing her face as she is slightly clutching the pillow in her sleep.
Cassandra has to restrain herself from caressing her cheek, or touching her altogether. The way it felt to have her in her arms a few hours prior is still lingering on her, but she doesn’t trust herself enough to stop if she gives in to her wishes.
A good agent would have turned his back and pulled away before anything could happen, a sensible one would have never found himself into this situation in the first place. Cassandra has been careless enough to let it happen. Multiple times.
Great work, Cassandra. Big mistake.
She allows herself one last brief look to the woman laying next to her, before standing up from the bed and walking to her chair. She starts dressing herself slowly and carefully, taking her time to button up her shirt and slide the jacket on. She makes sure to hide two knives, one around her wrist, the other in the boot. With a click she puts her gun in the holster on the hip.
She knows this is her job, yet it feels more like a death sentence right now.
“Cassandra?”
“WHAT?”
“It’s already been decided, it’s no use to argue now.”
Cassandra is usually a good agent, the perfect soldier. Maybe she indulges in a few snarky comments now and then, and sometimes has to go off plans and take a few risks to get the job done, but she listens to orders, she is respectful of her superiors. But this time, oh, Cassandra wants to argue, she really does.
“I work alone.”
“These are Prime Minister’s orders.”
“Does the Prime Minister know that I passed the age where I needed a babysitter?”
Someone lets escape a snort, Cassandra and F turn to the other person in the room beside them.
It’s Varian, V is supposed to be his codename, but she rarely uses it anymore, he even calls her Cass now, and despite his age, he is the new Quartermaster, responsible of the equipment, and can hack basically everything. Cassandra has yet to meet someone smarter than him.
But he is still a kid sometimes, and noticing he has been caught, clears his throat and gets back to fumble with his tools on the table. “Sorry boss... Cass.”
Cassandra shakes her head, mildly amused, but her annoyance is not gone. “F seriously, I don’t need anyone, you know that.”
“The Prime Minister thinks that because of the seriousness of the matter, and its possible implications, you need to have someone to advise you, guide you and especially remind you what you can and can’t do. We are already on the verge of a possible diplomatic incident, but she also wants to be sure you are not the reason.”
“And she sends me a… what is it called now?”
She knows it, but she wants him to repeat it so he can analyze how crappy this idea sounds.
F indulges her. “A consultant on international affairs.”
“Honestly, this time it sounds even more stupid… May I remind you, this is not a trip, but a retrieve mission? I am not going to sit there and ask nicely for this drive, which by the way, I could actually get killed for… I have to retrieve this thing, and you want me to take a diplomat with me? Couldn’t have you gotten me a new weapon or something? And not a useless idiot man whose job is talking around things?”
She has never raised her voice, not to a superior anyway, usually trusts her agency’s plans, but she can’t help it now. This is not her typical mission, it’s much riskier, the last thing she wants is complicate it even further by having to look after someone beside herself.
F tries to calm her down raising his hands, but knows better than to try to touch her. “Cassandra, think of it as an asset.”
“It’s a liability. You are sending me into an already deadly situation. Plus, I have to take care of a toddler in a suit. Forgive me if I am not thrilled.” She snaps back, crossing her arms.
But she can’t do much with her anger, she is aware this isn’t really F’s fault, not even he can go against the Prime Minister. He has to follow orders, just like her.
“The Prime Minister assured me she is one of her most trusted advisors, she will not give you trouble.”
“I don’t care if she sends me the secretary of state himself, I…” she stops herself, reanalyzing his words. “Wait… she?”
The timing couldn’t be more perfect, but Cassandra has her back at the glass door, so doesn’t spot the figure approaching until it’s too late. And it’s not exactly easy to startle her at this point of her life either. She has been looking over her shoulder for so long, it’s a second nature to her, learning to expect the unexpected from all sides. But that doesn’t stop her from having to double take when the woman steps inside.
The first thing that strikes her is how young she is. It shouldn’t be a surprise to her, Cassandra is not in the position to say anything about it, but she can’t help but notice how she can’t be much older than her. Besides, being in politics at her age must be a great achievement, it’s not something to overlook.
She is tall, her hair platinum blonde, neatly combed into a braid that rests on her left shoulder, wearing a grey pantsuit, that just increases the coldness of her appearance. And she is walking on heels with an easiness almost scary. In Cassandra’s experience, women who can walk and run in heels should be feared the most.
On top of that, she is probably the most beautiful woman Cassandra has ever seen.
Luckily for her, she is not a man, and can discern between pleasure and duty, so despite her striking beauty, she can’t forget this woman is her personal cross to bear in a possibly lethal situation and who could easily get her killed. So, not exactly an attractive quality per se.
She doesn’t have time to study her more thoroughly, because she has already reached them in a few light steps. “I apologize for being late. My name is Elsa Arnaldr, I have been sent by the Prime Minister as your consultant for international affairs.”
European, possibly Norwegian, judging by the unusual last name, and especially the accent, even if it’s faint, almost impossible to detect. She must have come to England when she was little.
F takes her hand to shake it. “Welcome to the MI6 headquarters, miss Arnaldr. I’m F.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Then she moves to Cassandra, who can’t help but notice her piercing blue eyes, and how they are faintly scrutinizing her. She must have heard her.
“Cass-”
“I know who you are, miss Knight. I read your file.”
She most definitely heard her. Apparently, Cassandra has already made a great first impression. But two can play this game.
“I wish I could say the same, miss Arnaldr. Since no one has had the decency to tell me about your existence or your role in my mission until an hour ago.”
She makes sure to remark on the fact that this is her mission, not even trying to hide her annoyance. They can force her to work with her, but not to be accommodating. If Cassandra has to suffer through this, so has she.
“But you have been informed of the importance of this mission, how fundamental it is not to compromise the position of the UK and avoid any possible conflict.”
“Obviously. I can read a folder.”
F shoots her a side look, it’s his way to tell her to quit it with the sarcasm and be respectful, but Cassandra doesn’t want to play nice today. It’s like she is being threatened in her own territory and she doesn’t like it.
But this woman doesn’t seem bothered by her defiance, her face remaining a stone-cold mask.
“Then you have been informed of all you needed to know for now.”
Cassandra blinks. One must respect the boldness.
“Oh, and for the record, there will be no need for you to take care of any toddlers during your mission. If you are so capable of doing your job as the reports tell, you won’t have to do any of that.”
Stuck up? Possibly. But also, sharp as a knife? Most definitely.
In a words’ match Cassandra has no chance to win, she is sure of it, after all she is dealing with a diplomat, if she wants to make herself clear, she has to be direct. “Can I ask you something, miss Arnaldr?”
She furrows her brow a little, it could be easily missed, but Cassandra has been doing this job for half of her life, she sees it anyway. “Of course.”
“Are you planning on following me on this mission, correct?”
“Yes, that’s the plan.”
“You are coming with me to Monaco, and you will be with me all the time.”
“I am set to accompany you and advise you every step of the way, yes.”
Cassandra smirks and shakes her head, as if she has just remembered the funniest joke in the world.
“May I ask what you find so amusing, miss Knight?”
“It’s agent, by the way, if you must.” if Cassandra enjoys a little reprehending her, she tries not to make it too evident. “Just indulge me a little more… do you know how to use a gun? Or any weapon at all?”
She seems taken aback by the question. “No.”
“Are you trained in any kind of physical combat or defense basics?”
“… No.” She replies more heavily, this time not right away, a flash of recognition in her eyes. She is starting to follow where Cassandra is trying to get her.
“Then, miss Arnaldr…” Cassandra concludes, “if your task includes shadowing me all the time, you will be in the field with me, endangering your life. And because you are in no possession of training, my responsibilities will include protecting you. So, not only I will have to retrieve the drive and keep myself alive, but also keep you alive. Does that clarify some things to you?”
She is probably being cruel and bitter, but she can’t worry about her feelings, she needs to explain how much is at stake. Because if Cassandra has to take on herself her life too, she needs her to be aware of the risks, and especially the consequences her presence can have on the mission.
“I won’t stand in your way agent Knight, if that’s what’s troubling you. The priority is to retrieve the drive and avoid an imbalance of international powers. And as long as we both focus on our tasks and cooperate when needed… I’m sure we won’t be a burden to each other.”
Cassandra dreads the few inches of difference they have in height, they make her feel small in comparison. But she isn’t coming off dismissive, more like defensive, especially towards the end. “I think I can take care of myself while you punch your way through things.”
Is this how is going to be all the time? A constant passive-aggressive fight? This is truly the beginning of a beautiful and peaceful partnership. And Cassandra can’t wait for it.
“Absolutely. I’m certain talking your way out of things will work out for you just fine, miss Arnaldr.”
“Agent Knight, I think that’s enough.” F finally steps in to interrupt this sparring match that has been going on for probably far too long, making Cassandra reluctantly take a step back.
She is a lot of things, brooding, reckless, a bit closed off, but she knows her place, and the last thing she wants is being scolded and called to order.
At the same time Elsa Arnaldr’s shoulders relax, her blue eyes flickering. “I look forward to working with you, agent Knight.”
“Likewise, miss Arnaldr.”
The voice calling for her sounds softer than usual, maybe because its owner is just coming out of her slumber and not completely awake.
“I’m here.”
The blonde head raises from the pillow, as she adjusts the sheet to cover herself, her blue gaze focuses on Cassandra, before turning to the clock on the nightstand. A sigh escapes from her.
“You should get back to sleep.” Cassandra tries to convince her, but she knows it wont’s be of use, she is simply too stubborn to listen.
“And you should come back to bed.”
“You know that I can’t. I have a date.”
She scoffs. “More of a Damocles’ sword if you ask me.”
“Still, I can’t miss it.” She tries to smooth the collar of her shirt. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Cassandra moves to leave, but she stops in her tracks when she calls for her again: “You shouldn’t go.”
“You knew this was coming.”
“We are talking about your life.”
Now she is definitely awake, and worse, she sounds sadder.
Cassandra walks back to the bed, settling on one of the sides, the one closer to her. “You know as well as I do that if I don’t get that drive, we might risk a global conflict.”
She is so fast, her hand clasping around hers. “I don’t care.”
“You don’t care about the world?”
“I don’t care about that drive, not if it endangers your life. Maybe we were wrong, it won’t lead to anything, maybe the Americans and the Russians won’t use it against each other.”
It’s a weak excuse and they both know it, Cassandra would want nothing more than to believe her.
She strokes her hand with her thumb. “You are the diplomat between us, and I am the one that has to tell you that’s wishful thinking?”
“You can’t blame me for trying.”
Cassandra hazards to look at her in the eyes, finding them unwavering. “Whatever happened to the priority is the drive and we have to avoid an imbalance of international powers?”
“Priorities change.”
“Yours or the world’s?”
“Does it matter?”
It does. But right now Cassandra doesn’t have the strength to engage in a discussion with her, she knows she would win. She could tell her to set the world on fire and she would gladly pass her the lighter. That’s how much she has affected her. But despite of how she feels, she knows her duty, and so does the blonde.
“If I stayed, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. Regret would eat you alive.”
“And it wouldn’t do the same to you?”
“I would have other things to distract me” she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, “I am not as selfless as you think I am.”
“Yet you are the one convincing me to let you go save the world.”
Cassandra sighs deeply. “You don’t need convincing, you know it’s the right thing to do.”
“Perhaps…” she averts her gaze for a moment, “but I can hate the idea of you having to do this and at the same time understand you are the only one who can.”
A few weeks ago, Cassandra would have never thought she would find herself in this position, hell, if she had known, maybe she would have done things differently.
No, she probably wouldn’t, she would have done the exact same things, because she is human, and because for the first time in forever, she has found a reason she would gladly stop running for.
After a lifetime of waiting, of searching for her place, is this how she finds it? It’s not something she would easily give up on now.
She grabs her face. “Elsa. I’ll be back after I get the job done, trust me.”
“I do.” Elsa puts her hand on hers. “Be safe.”
“I’ll try.” She kisses her forehead. “You be careful.”
“I always am.”
“Now who is the one lying?”
Elsa chuckles, but it sounds forced.
Then Cassandra reluctantly pulls away and exits the room without letting herself looking back, she knows that if she did, it would be harder to leave.
Cassandra lingers a moment longer with her gaze on her before looking outside. From the train window the view appears dark, they’ll arrive in Montecarlo in the morning.
They should probably talk, set up a strategy, or at least an outline, but despite being seated across from one another for hours, they have been adamant in ignoring each other.
That’s why Cassandra hates working with someone. Having a partner requires too much effort and a huge deal of patience, which she doesn’t have. And it doesn’t help she has never been good at making friends either, she barely has three, possibly four. Not everyone appreciates her charm.
But they’ll have to speak to each other eventually, especially if they want to work together, and most importantly, succeed and survive.
She is trying to decide the best way to approach her, but surprisingly, the other must have the same thought, because she turns to look at her. Technically, she is the diplomat between them, so it’s kind of fitting for her to be the first one to reach out.
“I think we might have started on the wrong foot.”
The euphemism of the century.
“I’ll admit…” Cassandra begrudgingly gives in, “I might have come off a little more antagonizing than necessary.”
One of the sides of the blonde’s mouth slightly turns upward, but it disappears soon enough. She carefully lays out a perfectly posed reply. “And I haven’t made things easier either.”
“Let me get this straight, I have nothing against you.” Cassandra throws out almost restlessly, slouching back against her seat. “Maybe you are good at what you do, the best even, but I don’t understand how someone of your… expertise should have anything to do with this mission. Diplomacy is the last thing we need in a situation like this.”
“Diplomacy is always needed.”
Cassandra can’t help but roll her eyes. Typical politician’s response.
Elsa presses on: “I am aware of the difficulties of your position. I have the maximum respect for your work, and I know it can’t be easy. But all I ask of you is to show the same respect to me and my profession, because I can assure you… I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t necessary.”
The way she talks irradiates calmness and authority, enough to give Cassandra the impression that maybe in her field she is not at the top of the pyramid, she is the pyramid. She even starts absentmindedly tapping her fingers on the table between them, a small sign of nervousness from her part, but it makes Cassandra feel a bit like a child scolded by her teacher. By any means she won’t let herself be intimidated by it or her.
“Then tell me, how would your presence be useful to me?”
She might be a quiet type, but her gaze is deep, louder than any of her words, especially with the way she stares down. Cassandra must give this to her, she doesn’t appear fazed by her frequent poking, actually welcoming it with an easiness almost disturbing.
“I have heard of you, agent Knight… I read about you too. All records picture one of the finest promises of the British intelligence: smart, perceptive… a little impulsive maybe, and unpredictable at times, but I imagine you have to be to do what you do.”
Cassandra straightens as she speaks, she is not sure what she is going for, this sort of praise is unexpected but also, a little pleasing. Then something changes in the other’s tone.
“But they also tell how you are a loner, distrustful, reluctant to cooperate even... actually, the exact expression someone used was ‘allergic to people’.”
Cassandra stiffens. It shouldn’t be a surprise to her, she knows how she is, she isn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. Or that someone didn’t say behind her back. Still, hearing her sharper sides pointed out out loud is not something that she appreciates.
“I understand how my presence could feel like a violation of your space to you, but I’m here for a reason. I’m here because the Prime Minister thought it would be wise to not let you go on your own with a risk of diplomatic disaster upon us.”
Irritation comes back creeping on Cassandra before she could stop it. “I don’t appreciate how you or anyone keeps referring to me as some sort of ticking bomb. You said it yourself, I am good at what I do, and one thing I surely am not is sloppy. Yet here you are, telling me that if you don’t watch me constantly, I could go and start a war with a country as a pastime.”
“That’s not what I am saying.” She frowns like she has heard the most absurd thing.
“Then what are you saying? Because I can’t tell between what a politician is saying and what they are actually meaning.”
Something passes through her eyes at that, a realization, that is enough to make her stop and tilt her head, scrutinizing her more deeply. “You don’t like politicians.”
“Really? What gave it away?”
Not even another one of Cassandra’s sarcastic remarks manages to discourage her, instead she seems to grow interested. Her eyes turning curious, her back leaving her seat as she leans forward to listen better.
Maybe it’s her attitude, the impression of being willing to listen, of wanting to make an effort to understand, that drives her to tell her. Or maybe Cassandra doesn’t see the harm. Not to mention, she is also incapable of keeping her mouth shut, especially to complain about something.
“All the ones I have encountered tend to treat me or agents in general as… lapdogs, that they can send to do the dirty work or clean up any sort of mess. They see the intelligence as a little private army willing to do anything, even the worst things… And that might be partially true, but it doesn’t give them the right to treat me like a pet. I am no one’s pet. Especially not some idiot’s seated on a cushion chair who thinks themselves better than anyone else.”
“For what is worth… I’m sorry this happened to you. Truly.” Elsa replies after a while, expression almost pained. And the worst thing is, she actually looks like she means it. Like she does care.
It makes Cassandra uncomfortable.
“I’m used to it.” She shrugs, then to avoid turning this into an even more uncomfortable situation, she adds: “And I don’t like people who lie and talk around things without really saying or doing anything.”
“That’s not what politicians do.”
“That’s what most of them do. And I don’t think I can trust someone who can’t be honest with me.”
“You want me to be honest?”
Cassandra scoffs, tucking herself against her backrest. “Listen to yourself, you can’t even give me a straight answer. You keep dodging my questions.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh, you are. It’s very annoying by the way.”
“I… I didn’t realize I was doing it. Okay. If you want honesty…” Elsa shuffles on her seat, fidgeting with her hands as she rests them on the small table that separates them. “I think… I think you are being judgmental. And possibly a little narrow-minded.”
If she wasn’t sitting down, Cassandra would probably take a step back. And if she was anything less than a professional, she would have screeched too.
“I’m sorry, but it’s true. Maybe there are politicians like the ones you talk about, but there are others, many others, who try to keep their countries safe, who work hard to make the world a better place. Who only have the best interests of their people at heart.” She is not saying it just for show, she truly believes that. Her body language might be stiff at times, she might be a little stuck up too, but there is nothing unfeeling about her. Nothing fake.
“And diplomacy has nothing to do with telling a pretty lie. Sometimes it’s the best option to prevent conflict, a bridge between parties that they might not always understand each other. Sometimes it can make all the difference in the world. Don’t you think that talking things through is better than bombing everything?”
Cassandra has to admit, she is right, and makes her point splendidly. If more people were like her, genuinely driven to do good, maybe the world would be indeed a better place. She is no optimist, but she doesn’t need to be one to share her way of thinking.
“You are right.”
“What?”
“I said you are right.”
She looks surprised, as if she can’t believe Cassandra just agreed with her, she probably expected from fighting from her part. But even after that first moment of astonishment, she’s quick to take back control of herself, as if slipping into a coat. Yet she still looks less… rigid than before. Almost hesitant.
“Can I ask… when did I give you the impression that I wouldn’t be truthful to you?”
Cassandra raises both her eyebrows, going back to look at the window. “What makes you think that?”
“Agent Knight pardon me, but I think you are the one dodging the question now.”
She almost snorts. Almost. Perhaps she is enjoying this back and forth a little. Instead, she shifts on her chair. “Not yet, miss Arnaldr. Not yet.”
“Very well then.”
Probably satisfied with the progress they have made in the last few minutes, the diplomat allows the quiet to fall back, moving to settle back on her seat.
“But you still haven’t told me why you are here.” Cassandra’s voice makes her stop in her task again.
“And don’t give me the ‘diplomatic disaster crap’. Tell me what you are really going to do for this mission.”
Her fingers twitch again. “Let’s just say… it will be up to me to tell you how to best engage with our foreign parties. Because despite how much you loathe hearing it, I really am here to prevent you from upsetting the wrong people at the wrong time and cause a rift between us and the US or Russia.” She takes a deep breath, almost out of exhaustion. “So, have I answered your questions now? Have I been enough honest for you?”
“No.” This time she isn’t able to stop herself, Elsa unmistakably and shamelessly rolls her eyes. Cassandra finds it rather amusing. “But for now I’ll take it.”