"Da. Yes," he tells her, switching back and forth between Russian and English as easily as breathing. "Sit, please."

She is beginning to interest him, this young red-headed recruit, with her accented English and her book of mystery stories and her scarred arm. There is more here than he had expected to find.

Inwardly, he accepts that they had been right to send him here. Of course they had known what they were doing. He should not have doubted - not that he had let anyone see him doing so. He knows better.

"It is nice. And hey, we all need something to believe in, right?"

His English is casual and comfortable, and slides easily into the rhythm of American speech.