Illya doesn’t feel truly afraid a lot. His training had made sure of that. Fear was something that could get you killed. But at that moment he was just a little afraid of his wife. He turned, watching as Napoleon left the room with an apologetic look that Illya knew to be false. He was going to strangle the American the next chance he got.
He turns back to Galina with an expression that he hopes conveys how he feels; a mixture between scared and sorry. “It was for mission,” he says hoping it would be enough. And yet he knew it wouldn’t be.
Letting out a sigh Illya moves to sit on the bed, hands clasped in front of him. He absently plays with his own wedding band, the cool metal a comfort to him. “I wanted to tell you but things happened so fast and Cowboy,” he waves a hand towards the door that Napoleon had fled through. “Was idiot, I had forgotten about wife cover.”
she’s not necessarily angry with him, not really, but it is another reminder of the lack of control she has over her own life, over her own marriage, another reminder her life is more acting than it is living. she struggles to find the words, wants to try and explain, but knows there’s not much point, there’s nothing she can really do about it.
‘ well, i suppose it is better i know later than not at all. who’s playing the wife then? ‘ she doesn’t want to say his wife, because that’s hers, she refuses to let them take that. roles could be anything, but she was firm that she’d never let herself think of someone else as his wife. it is stories, she tries to remind herself, stories to make things smoother, grease wheels, allow for anonymity. it is necessary, on some level or another.
‘ i don’t - ‘ she hesitates for a moment, choosing her words carefully. ‘ cover is important, but i do not particularly wish to see you kiss another woman, if it can be avoided. ‘ she knows what must be done is non-negotiable, that it would perhaps look strange for a husband not to be affectionate with his wife, but she hopes she can at least ask it be out of her sight.
