Shoulders bunched as her hands tightened into fists, ready to lash out even as she whirled at the question. For a moment, her eyes were accusatory, as though to question why he would dare think anyone was after her. And after a moment, he struck her as familiar - empty eyes, broad shoulders, ragged dark stands of hair just peeking out from under his ears. But if this were a test, she shouldn't acknowledge who he was unless he gave her a signal - right?
Her own voice was quiet but hard, with the barest whisper of a Russian accent that she was still working on training out of it. "What makes you think someone is after me?" Soldat - the word is on the tip of her tongue, and only her training reins it in just in time.