Veronika kept her icy glare on Jack. The man trembled before her, as if the Siberian winds that she had trained years, decades, ago when she thought she was training for an<em>osnaz</em>detachment. As a saboteur dropped behind enemy lines, they figured that if she could survive alone in Siberia she could handle anywhere. They were right. She willed those icy winds to blow over this man through her eyes, and the way he trembled, she might have been succeeding.<br/><br/>She glanced to Trevor, her eyes not nearly arctic, but still cold, as he suggested they should leave. Come Ladies, he said. Once upon a time the spy-killer in front of this man would have shot him, shot his lady friend, and shot everyone who tried to stop her walking out just to ensure that her target died. And that would only be necessary if the many ways she could kill without her target ever suspecting he was being threatened. But no, she was not that man anymore. Now, she was indeed a lady. And she did not want to kill him. Or Sandi. Her eyes softened a little.<br/><br/>It was almost as though she was at a crossroads. One way, she told her friends to leave, or she forced them to, and she hurt this man, probably killed him. No, definitely, she would kill him. Or, she could go have dinner with Sandi. She glanced down, a moment of uncertainty. She wanted to be in charge. She was not used to being the least threatening one in the room, well, other than Jack. She glanced his way again, but this time it was a look of mere disgust, not an icy stare of death.<br/><br/>And then the snow in her eyes gone, a soft, warm, summer light shining form them instead as she turned back to Trevor and Sandi. Her soft lips turned up, a gentle, delicate girl once more. "Oh thank you." She said, hand over her heart, purse adjusted on her shoulder as she walked towards them. "Yes, let us have dinner together. We have to celebrate our next movie."<br/><br/>And that was her life from now on, she realized. Making movies. Getting fondled by directors. Being saved by other people.<em>Not</em>murdering anyone afterwards. Probably.<br/><br/>She slipped one hand into Trevor's arm, the other into Sandi's.<br/><br/>"I love American dinner." She gushed. "Are we making cheeseburgers or macaroni?" She said, naming her two favorites. This was nice, she thought to herself. Having friends, people who cared about her. She had not begun to suspect that they were the ones who had the advantage on her. Why would spies possibly be watching a young movie actress? She would soon wish she had considered that possibility.