Summary
Natalia draws a fingertip across his jawline. "You are every inch a person... Every single piece of you."/The Soldier looks at his metal fingers, which rest against the nape of her neck. A person does not have a machine for an arm, and surely a person does not wonder if he is a person...The Soldier pins her with his stare. "Persuade me."/A soldier; an assassin. What could go wrong?