The redhead arched an eyebrow, but didn't fight him as he urged her into one of the chairs. The reformed Russian spy took a seat, hands settling in her lap, and she looked up at him, expectantly. Not just a talk? Perhaps she should have guessed it. The invitation in Russian, the romantic meal and wine, and the tux, it was definitely tell-tale signs of something more than one of their casual conversations or even one of their more serious ones. But,of what? She couldn't really guess other than he had simply planned a pleasant surprise for her. What else could it be?
"Not just a talk? Then, what?" she asked, voice light and perhaps with a note of desperate lightness to the tone.