But the girl in the mirror hadn't opened her mouth that time. Instead, she had pursed her lips as her gaze swept down her body. Her hands followed, sl...ding down her ribcage to rest on her hips. I shifted my hips back and forth like a salsa dancer."Kind of chubby little legs, though, huh?"What the fuck is going on?I didn't say that either, not aloud at any rate. Instead, when the girl in the mirror spoke, it was to answer the question, not to ask it."Look, sweetie," I watched myself say. "I'm. In the background was a stylized Kremlin with an ill proportioned red star radiating shafts of sunlight. There was an inscription appealing to the Soviet people to build Socialism, but Mischa didn't bother reading it - he'd seen such things aplenty most of his life. He briefly looked out the window, before going to the desk drawers. Opening the top one, he took out a box of the finest Cuban cigars. Taking them all, he tossed one to Rostrimov. Walking to the only other piece of furniture, a. More

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