Andreas studied the younger man in silence for a few long moments, picking up all of his embarrassment, his nervousness.  It might not have been the first time he’d had to lie, but it was beginning to become clear that he wasn’t used to having to make up excuses for his physical condition.  That was where the home schooling came in, the pitiful bar job working with and under people who probably knew and didn’t care.  Not even being attacked by a patron there was enough to earn the poor, broken creature pity.<br/><br/>It was disgusting, and Andreas found himself faced with quite the dilemma.<br/><br/>“And if you don’t quit lying to me, that’s a very real possibility,” he stated.  It was calm, steady, but there was no denying the very real threat there.  To soften the blow, he added, “How can I protect you from someone when you’re protecting them from me?  That isn’t how it works,<i>käraste</i>.”  Not at all common for him to slip out of the language and accent he had adopted for a particular mission, and he mentally kicked himself for it many times over.  His dear old master would’ve been rolling in his grave, had Andreas given him one.<br/><br/>Sighing, he reached his hand across the table, palm up, expecting Alex to place his own within.  Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he didn’t have time to extract everything as carefully as he’d have liked.<br/><br/>“A long time ago, I was nothing but a brainwashed prisoner,” he whispered.  “I was forced to do things I didn’t want to do.  I was punished when I failed.  And I was convinced that the one doing it to me was the only one in the whole world who would ever love me.  I was also convinced that I loved him more than anything, that I’d do anything for him… live and kill and die for only him.”