Cut It Out and Restart *Daredevil*Damned*Agents of SHIELD*

11) The Fine Line between a Gentleman and a Jerk

Morning wasn't any easier for Vera than her sleepless night in the luxurious sheets. 

It was unfortunate to say at least – Veronika was supposed to be fresh and all charming, not looking absolutely pathetic with enormous bruise-like circles under her eyes.

But she would take what she got – she woke up in a mansion owned by her target, a dangerous billionaire who was about to blow up a somewhere, and if the last night was anything to go by, she had some of his sympathies. At least she had something to work with and the rest could be fixed with make-up – and walking to the bathroom attached to her room, she remembered that Kuznetsov was nothing but efficient, already having her bag brought from the hotel she was supposed to be lodged at.

It was creepy, really, but what else had she expected? That man had power, getting a minion to pick up her stuff was the least problem for him.

Vera tried to ignore the flutter of nausea in her stomach, her skin paling even more in the reflection in the large mirror.

It's okay, you're just about to have a breakfast with a murderous psychopath, calm your nerves.

Right.

To be fair... yesterday night, she found him a bit sleazy, but wouldn't call him an entirely unpleasant company. She could do this.

...right?

For the truth, for justice, for herself – yeah, she had to. The game, if she could even call it that, the very dangerous game had already started and she either came out on a winning side... or she might actually die.

Contrary to the popular belief, dying was not the option Vera was fond of.

No, Vera wanted to live. At least long enough to ensure the success of this mission and the reveal of their not-so-mysterious ally.

So far, things went relatively smoothly... she just hoped it would stay that way.

-.-.-

With a talent like Skye, getting an invitation to a private party and making everyone believe that they belonged was a piece of cake – or at least Skye made it look like that when working.

Invitations, fake ID's and identities to begin with, memorizing Kuznetsov's personal details and everything that could be found in his files, and before Vera knew it, she was third-wheeling Coulson and May, sipping on her champagne and watching the crowd from her safe corner.

She had found four different points of entrance – escape routes, should the need rise – to the ballroom, kept her eye at Kuznetsov as he was shaking hands and turning shots bottoms up, while she herself wondered how to approach him. With the corner of her eye, she couldn't but follow the movement of her boss and the best damn pilot she knew... not that there were many.

Point was, Coulson and May made quite a pair, falling into the role of a couple in love way too easily for it to be only pretended. Vera had suspected a little more affection blooming between the two for a while now, but seeing them like this, what they easily could be, was making her chest pleasantly warm. They deserved happiness... so why didn't they pursuit it? Why did they keep taking one job after another, risking their lives, their only home being a damn jet?

She supposed she had no right to judge though; after all, she was still here, pulling stunts like that despite literally having been offered a chance to walk away, start a new life, settle down.

Perhaps deep down, she had known she had to go on – so she could be led right into this moment.

"Fancy a dance?" sounded on her right and she sighed, unable to decide whether she was grateful for the having her train of thought cut off.