Chapter 2109 A Game (Part 2)

A person's emotional experience will determine his active and passive status when getting along with the opposite sex and whether he is comfortable or not.

Fortunately, Malashenko's life journey before time travel is destined to be an absolute veteran in this regard. Even if a naughty devil is in front of him, Malashenko is confident that he can handle it and handle such a devil. The Devil Wears Prada will definitely be a very interesting thing, and Malashenko is very much looking forward to seeing the final result of this game.

"Who says otherwise? General, you are even more outstanding than I thought."

This is reasonable and certainly not surprising. The speed at which the naughty female devil in front of her enters the character state is in line with Malashenko's expectations. Of course, it is also consistent with her behavior and style recorded in the investigation files.

Malashenko has many ways to deal with this bitch, and the evil smile on the corner of his mouth looks more like it is full of something that all men understand.

"First drink, Miss Vera, please."

Malashenko, who was drinking alone, raised his glass briefly and drank the wine in one gulp. In response, the pure devil took a rather reserved sip, and then put down the glass. spoke in response.

"It is said that the extremely cold places in Russia will create men with the most heroic drinking capacity. It seems that the general is well-deserved, and"

Her long, well-maintained hair, like a golden waterfall, was lightly brushed by slender fingers, and her every move and smile contained an aura that could make an ordinary man swoon. x ̸͍̘̳͂͊̂̊̀͊̕͘.̷̹̦̆̆c̶͙͈͚̽̄̈̎̒͜ó̶̧̧̝̳̠͇͕̺̲̹̔̈́ ́՝͝m̷̗͓̽̂̌̋̌̌

"It also tastes more manly."

No one knows what is hidden in Malashenko’s mysterious smile in response to this. This is a game and more of a game. If he wants to always have the upper hand in this game and ultimately win, every word and deed of Malashenko will be crucial, and this bitch must not be fooled.

"In your fascist dogma, people like me seem to be people of despicable blood. I wonder if Miss Vera has sworn allegiance to your head of state. In this case, what she said just now can be considered betrayal. A pledge? I’m very interested.”

Malashenko's words and deeds did not leak any flaws, and they were neither far nor close, but appropriate.

This is not only the physical distance, but also the emotional distance when a man and a woman are alone in the same room. It is a good choice not to take the initiative to get too close, to adapt to the ever-changing situation, just like the enemy on the battlefield. If you move, a flaw will be revealed.

Malashenko waited for a similar result while watching the changes, observing carefully and calmly, but in words, he took the initiative to grasp the rhythm.

But as Malashenko knew in advance, his prey, the hunted object in this game, is obviously a very complicated character.

"General, have you ever known such a saying? Conquest is a man's sharpest sword, and the sword you hold in your hand is sharper than anyone else's. Not only against enemies on the battlefield, but also against enemies on the battlefield. right"

Vera did not continue to speak. Of course, even if she did not speak, Malashenko knew what the fart that was not released in the second half of the sentence smelled like. It was not difficult to guess.

He raised the brandy glass on the table and poured half a glass for himself with a smile. Malashenko, who was sitting on the corner of the desk, was still smiling, not at all like how he should treat an enemy.

"In my motherland, my hometown, your Fascist army burned, killed, looted, and committed all kinds of evil, causing one human tragedy after another that caused loss of life. You claim to be the conqueror of that land."

"Sometimes I find it hard to understand what it means to be a conqueror. According to your logic, I should be the conquered, but now I am standing here talking to you as a conqueror. No. Do you think this is ironic?"

Malashenko's smile was as unpredictable as ever, and in contrast was his answer with the same informal smile.

"The strong conquer the weak, and the conquerors will be replaced by more powerful conquerors. Your standing here is the best explanation and proof of all this."

""

Malashenko did not respond with any form of words. He just leaned on the table and raised his glass in thought, and once again drank the brandy reflected by the firelight of the fireplace through the wall of the glass.

But at some point, Vera had also reached the table, and seemed to be intentionally or unintentionally getting closer to the only man in the room. Now it was obviously her turn to meet.

"Your excellent German is so impressive, General, that even I am surprised."

After hearing this, Malashenko looked back while holding the empty wine glass, only to find that the look in the eyes of the woman next to him had changed unknowingly. That free and thirsty breath echoed in the rather hot air between the fires, which really made people feel the same anxious feeling.

"Is that so? I have always felt that my German level still needs to be studied hard. According to the standards of a strong person, this is not enough."

Malashenko kicked the ball back as usual, and the person who firmly took the initiative continued to speak with a faint smile.

"You want to seek my recognition and praise, even if it is just a little bit, can I understand this?"

"Um?"

Malashenko's unconventional speech did surprise Malashenko, but it was limited to a momentary accident that lasted less than 0.5 seconds.

"What if I say I don't deny it?"

Malashenko is still smiling.

"Then I think my answer is the same."

It's like the iron block and the magnet are placed on the table at a distance, but they always attract each other and move towards each other. However, Malashenko is not a magnet but an iron block.

"Do you need anything from me? Miss Vera."

Feeling the soft touch and the fire-like temperature of the body that was rubbing into his arms like a water snake, Malashenko, who was sitting calmly in his arms, just kept his facial expression unchanged and spoke quietly.

"Isn't it my place to ask you? My general, or the reason why you called me here, just like there was only a moment of eye contact between the two of us during the day."

The hand that passed through his arm supporting the corner of the table was moving, gently going around the uniform belt and searching behind the waist. The gentle touch was real and accessible, and Malashenko knew what it meant.

"Is the direction correct? Honey, maybe it should be in front."

Just at the moment when the fiery red lips touched her, Malashenko, who had a premonition of something, was already raising his glass and raising his hand, accompanied by the soft voice that was still whispering.

"Why don't you try reaching in the opposite direction? My general."