Emotions war within her, the battle playing out on her features. Anya has always been a decent actress when she wants to be. That was the irony in the entire mess. Dmitry and Vlad had gone seeking a girl to play pretend and found the real thing in a girl who had in her childhood spent hours playing at other people. All of those skills, the schooling of her expression, the changing of one feeling for another. Those have all fled.

Inhaling sharply, Anya closes her eyes, squeezing the tears from them as she tries to steal herself. She wants to be happy. She was happy, is still happy. Dmitry loves her, is in love with her. It was something that she hadn't realized she might have wanted until it was too late. By then it didn't matter. He wasn't here and a different love had crept in, just as unexpected.

Taking a deep breath, she attempts to swallow the lump in her throat. It doesn't work.

"I wanted you to kiss me that night," she says after a long moment, shaking her head slightly before opening her eyes to look at him. In a crowd of thousands, he had found her again. It is almost like a story, except it isn't at all. The players are acting out of turn. "And when you didn't, I thought I'd misunderstood. That I had had it all wrong. But now..."

She shakes her head, not certain what to do. She wants to kiss him and slap him all at once, but cannot do either. "I wish you had kissed me. Then I would have known, then I would know what to do now."