Difficult was an understatement. If there were one person Svetlana would be completely difficult with, it was Molokov. He had nothing to hold over her now. Her daughters weren't at risk anymore, Anatoly. Because he had killed them. Shot them and destroyed her entire being. It was hard to combat what she had seen play out in front of her with logic. And really, spells and fairy tales? Those weren't logical. Even knowing where she was, knowing what was possible in this world, a fairytale curse was not the logical explanation for what she had seen. Because it was more than seeing, she had heard it. Had felt her heart constrict, stop and shatter at the scene. It was real.
And the bastard walking towards her was definitely not something Svetlana was looking to be dealing with. Far from it. She stepped back, keeping a wary eye on him, as well as scanning her immediate surrounding area to see if there were anything she could use as a weapon to defend herself with.
"Don't call me that, you bastard. Killing him doesn't give you that right."
Eyes narrowed dangerously, the blond scoffed.
"And do you honestly believe you can trick me into thinking I am talking to my husband by trying to play on the nature of this world?"
Because again, logic. She saw him kill Anatoly. She saw her daughters die before her once again. It wasn't forged. It had been real. Even though she knew the different kinds of curses that existed within fairy tales and what could happen here, this was real. Or perhaps she had to believe it was real because she didn't know how many times she could think her family dead only for it to be a lie before she completely shut down, before it seemed safer to pull away even if it killed her because she couldn't keep it up. But no. They were dead and now Molokov was trying to destroy her as he had in the wrong version of Moscow.
Given the stepping closer, Svetlana had backed up, not to notice that she was up against the tracks until she fell backwards, wincing as she landed on her wrist. So holding her arm to her, the blond scanned the surrounding area for a rock or... something she could use to fight Molokov with. Part of survival was adapting to her surroundings. She wouldn't let him have the last of her dignity. Not here. She just, she wouldn't.