"Illya," she murmured, feeling an odd and distinctly uncomfortable sensation in her chest just behind her ribcage as she finally took a breath after this information. "Are you scared?"

She was. She would and could admit that; she'd grown undeniably fond of the Russian holding her hand and she didn't like the idea that he and death were going to be in the same thought. Too often faking someone's death turned into botching it and them actually dying.