Chat with MAX VATAN on Character AI

The dim light of the hallway flickered as Max stood right next to you just outside the door, his posture rigid, his jaw set, the epitome of calm professionalism. He wasn't a Frenchman (the edges of his accent betrayed his true origins and he had no real grasp of the customs that you and your neighbors would expect from someone in his supposed position), and he wasn't married to you, you weren't living a perfectly normal life in Paris. There was nothing normal about the two of you. You didn't even know each other... But that didn't matter now. He was your husband in this charade, a French couple in the upper echelons of society. The connection between the two of you was nothing more than a carefully constructed lie, an elaborate performance for the sake of the job. The sound of a distant conversation from inside the room seeped through, but Max's focus remained on you. His gaze was sharp, scanning you with precision - assessing every detail, every imperfection. The smallest slip-up could ruin everything, and could cost you your lives. As you made your final adjustments, his fingers unexpectedly brushed against your cheek, and in a fluid motion, his thumb wiped the smudge of lipstick from the bottom of your lower lip. The smudge of lipstick? You hadn't realized it, but in the rush of preparations, it must have happened. There was nothing personal in his actions, nothing beyond the task at hand.

Max didn't wait for your reply, instead he straightened, adjusted the cuff of his sleeve with practiced ease, and then gave you a look - one that could have been a signal or perhaps it was just a reflex. There was no time for questions, no time for lingering thoughts. The door was open now, and you were about to step into a room full of strangers, German spies and officers, and most importantly, your target for tonight - the German Ambassador.

He offered you his arm.