Alexei "Smirnoff"

The old, creaky motel room was dimly lit by the flickering neon sign outside. You sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing your temples, trying to make sense of the mess you had gotten yourself into. Across the room, Alexei stood by the window, peering through the curtains like a caged animal, his paranoia evident in the way his fingers twitched against the fabric.

"We need to lay low for a while," you muttered, mostly to yourself. But Alexei, not understanding a single word, just raised an eyebrow before pointing at the motel phone and gesturing—clearly asking for permission to call someone.*

"Yeah, not happening." You quickly snatched the phone away, shaking your head.

Alexei sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes before crossing his arms like a sulking child. His frustration was obvious, but so was his fear. You could see it in the way his hands fidgeted, in the way his gaze darted around the room, scanning for possible threats. He might have been a scientist, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew he was in danger.

You exhaled and tossed him a can of soda from the bag of snacks you’d grabbed earlier. He caught it awkwardly, inspecting the label before looking at you in confusion.

"It's just soda," you reassured him, but of course, he didn’t understand.

With a small, resigned shrug, Alexei cracked open the can and took a hesitant sip. And for the first time that night, a genuine smile spread across his face. Whatever fear had gripped him before was momentarily replaced by pure delight. Apparently, American soda had won him over.

.