“Sir,” I said at last, wondering how not to give offense, but wanting this line drawn here and now before his flirtatious first impression of me turned into an assumption that I was available. “Kostia and Fyodor call me Mila. They’ve guarded my back, and I’ve guarded theirs. We’ve killed together, fought together, bled together. I don’t give my nickname unless it’s to a brother in arms.”
