Hans wrapped his arm around Tatiana’s waist, playing it cool. The man’s eyes were deep blue, with bruise-like circles beneath them. He held out his hand, “Name’s Jake.” Hans said loudly.

“Ian.” the man replied with a smile, his British accent clipped, “What’re you doing here? I thought the Yanks were staying at home for this one?” He ended with a question, his eyes suspicious.

“I got family out here, wanted to try to get them out.” Hans shrugged, “It didn’t exactly work out, so I’m heading Stateside soon.” Tatiana curled the newly-brown hair at the nape of his neck around her finger, and he pulled her to him. He hadn’t made a mistake in years, but rules were rules. This must be Ian Fletcher, he looked just like the photo. “Where you stayin’ tonight, Ian?”

The man shrugged, “Dunno. Hard to find a place, is it?” He looked discouraged.

“It is, now. You should stay with me. I got a big room at the inn.” He kissed Tati’s cheek, and Natasha left, “But I think we should leave later.” He continued with a wink.