Liebe ist die Droge

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

Country: Germany, Munich
Current Time: November 11, 1942
Weather Conditions: snowing a bit, but not too much. Rather chilly evening.

"November 11: Adolf Hitler ends the armistice between Free and Vichy France, occupying the entire country north of the Riviera." said the German announcer on the radio.

The whole tavern seemed to come alive with German men and women cheering. They went off and began singing patriotic songs about the Nazi party, and praising Hitler for the success of the war. Within an hour or two the songs drifted off into German drinking songs...though the words have seemed to become slurred due to the extensive drunkards in the tavern. The dimmed lights of the bar seemed to give Raushan a head ache or was it the smell of smelly soldiers that smelled of cigarettes mixed with alcohol? Well, whatever it was...it wasn't making Raushan feel any better.

A few weeks ago she had gotten a leek about an SS general that was in Munich. Of course her job was to get "friendly" with the poor soul and take him out when she got the chance. But by some unfortunate turn of events the trail had gone cold and her target was obviously no longer in Munich. Rushan threw back the rest of the drink she was drinking and tapped the bar table with her perfectly manicured finger trying to get the bartender's attention for more wine. Frankly Raushan wasn't the type of girl to drink extensively...she already had a full glass of white wine...but in all honesty Raushan just liked the way the translucent glass would hit her lips. It was a rather stupid excuse to drink--but, it was something to keep her mind off the war and her specified target. This was a complete waste of my time she thought. She let out a brief sigh, then flashed a witty smile at the Bartender as he refilled her glass.

"Danke..." she said with a seductive twang to her tone. A flirty smile crossed her deep red lips as she laced her slender fingers around the neck of the glass and brought it to her lips.

The Bartender smiled back and continued preparing drinks for several other guests. Once in a while a drunken German soldier would go up to Raushan and flirt with her a little...but, she was in no mood to entertain anyone that came her way...flirt and tease maybe, but nothing else. She would merely smile at the men wearing a not fairly interested expression on her face as they tried to talk her up in hopes to make them get bored of her and leave her alone. Thankfully, her methods were working...she sighed boredly remembering she didn't particularly want to be involved in this war in the first place...but the sheer sense of adventure and danger was too good to pass up and a free spirited girl as she is would have never pass up this opportunity.

She ran her pale finger over the rim of the glass as her mind started to wonder. Her thoughts disappeared into the song of Eva Bush: Du sollst nicht traurig sein! It was a pretty old song but, it still had a good beat. As soon as the song started the laughter of the officers and their dates grew louder. They seemed to be playing some sort of card game. Raushan arched her eyebrow at the obnoxious laughter that happened to be centered at one table in the whole room. She rolled her eyes a little trying to get her mind off of several things that could possibly irritate her. Given she was already agitated that her leek proved to be worthless information. She smoothed out her calve length pencil skirt from any wrinkles before taking out her small compact mirror.

She reached into her thick wool coat pocket and pulled out a small purse which held her lipstick, identification papers and money. Her black laced top, beige silk Cammie and black pencil skirt hugged every inch of her body as she sat cross legged on the bar stool. Her dark auburn-brown hair was resting effortlessly against the small of her back in cascading pin-curls. Every way you looked her hair seemed to catch almost every bit of the dull light that illuminated the claustrophobic tavern. It seemed to give the illusion that her hair mimicked waterfalls of melting chocolate. Raushan brushed off one of her curls off her shoulder; quickly retouching her red lips...she shifted a bit in her seat, placing the lipstick and compact mirror away. She rolled her stiffened shoulders slightly in a cat-like manner; humming a popular German folk song to herself as she lifted the lucid wine glass to her lips again.

[Tristan Herman]

One rarely, if ever, picks up on the peculiarity of a tavern or bar. Not accomplished by the amalgam of personalities, colorful motives, ideas and ideals, or purpose behind such an establishment, but rather the tone. A bar is all at the same time: a brothel (purposefully or otherwise), a watering hole, a psychiatrist, a ballroom, and a gathering place. No one ever attends a bar with the intent of simply drinking. There is always an additional facet to the plan, be it to get laid or pick a fight. Everyone in a bar has an ulterior motive.

In Tristan's case, it was forgetting.

You can only believe you've cocked up so many times before admitting that you need to forget such incidents wholly. Tristan had the fatal personal flaw of believe every comrade's death was a preventable occurrence; when a man died, he took his passing to heart. That being said, he'd watched enough men perish over a thousand kilometers away in the heart of the Soviet Union. He'd taken the furlough with the original intent of going back home to see his father, but had shied away from the occasion on account of his overbearing fear of the man. The young man could stand up to the advance of ideologically crazed Soviet troops, but still had Daddy-issues; naturally.

But, as mentioned, he had changed course at the last moment, settling for the option of working out some more pressing and stressful issues, namely his own feelings of inadequacy as a leader. Except, for perhaps the first time in his life, “working out” did not necessarily imply exercise or concentrated thought. Nay, in this particular instance it referred to determining how many times he would have to reach the bottom of an eight ounce glass before he passed out and had killed enough brain cells to forget anyone had died throughout the duration of the war. That number was, so far, one. Herman couldn't really hold his liquor, and he knew it. A foreboding hangover further suppressed his will to continue drinking anything involving alcohol as a prime (or even miniscule) ingredient.

As the box radio continued on about Der Fuhrer's most recent annexation of the Vichy regime's territory, his eyes were suddenly drawn to a, suffice to say, tantalizing woman. Lace and a high-cut skirt could topple many a man, but what drew Tristan's gaze in particular was the way she wore it and, more so, presented herself. She gave off a certain contradicting aura. Definitely one that said “You can look, boys, but you can't touch till I say”. Rolling waves of brown silk for hair, blood-red lips, and beckoning eyes. It was hard to tell if she wanted the attention she garnered or not. Rather quickly (and involuntarily) he was reminded of his own virginity.


Retaining it hadn't exactly been an objective of his, but Herman simply hadn't had the time or means to do so. Growing up in a small town means you don't have the widest selection of women, and all of their fathers are liable to be within killing distance of you. He'd considered it on a few occasions when on furlough as well, but losing it to a hooker wasn't really losing it; it's a prize best earned through time, skill, or both, as opposed to paying a girl ten Deutschmarks for an hour (or seven minutes) of her time.

Yet it was not even vaguely the time. He hadn't the slightest experience with speaking to women. Not in a romantic sense at least. Additionally, Tristan found it would not be in the best interest of his conscious to burden himself with a further soul he might accidentally harm. Whoever she was, she clearly didn't deserve such a treatment. Especially from a man so...inexperienced. And who was he to assume he had the gall or guile to capture her eyes?

Irony had something in store for him though as Tristan soon found he could scarcely take his gaze off her. She was simply so beautiful. Such a rare sight. Not only among common man, but especially in his case (again, there wasn't the most physically appealing selection in Konigsberg). In all honesty, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. With such natural feeling and effortless (not to mention unknowing) ease she was taking him on a daydream like no other. What he would give for a moment of her time, to tell her how gorgeous she looked.

He allowed the thought to take the sidelines of his mind however. His eyes continued to steal glances at her supple, enticing curves and seemingly perfect face, but he put concerted effort into focusing on his drink, or lack thereof.

But even a bombardier could recognize his failure to do so; Tristan was captivated by this woman.

[[Already impressed by your writing. What did you have in mind for the thread? Any general direction?]]

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

Raushan exhaled a breath after a few sips of the wine. The sweetened drink danced on her lips like sweet decadent honey. She quietly fixed the hem skirt covering up her exposed knee, while at the same time trying to show skin. Her stormy blue eyes scanned the tavern...Where the hell is he!? her eyes flitted to the clock reading 10pm...he was about an hour late. She let out a soft groan out of irritation, then noticed her glass was almost empty. She casually waved her slender hand to get the bartender's attention, "Nachfüllen bitte..."she said in a rather awe catching tone of voice.

Her voice seemed to drift like a summer breeze--warm yet hypnotizing with a slight rustic tone...one could say it could even melt the heart of the coldest man and make him fall to his knees.

The bartender chuckled lightly, " Meinst du nicht, du hattest genug?"he mused as he refilled her glass.

"Oh?" said Raushan as she leaned against the counter, " Mach dir um mich Sorgen zu viel Liebling..." she said curving her body in such a feminine manner.

The bartender seemed to flush a shade of red seeing Raushan curve her body in such a way that would catch any man's attention or whoever happens to be looking her way. He cleared his throat feeling rude that he kept staring at the subtle curves of her body...he suddenly jerked his head upon hearing someone yell out for another drink.
"Excuse me miss..."said the Bartender politely. Raushan smiled slyly waving her hand like a flutter of wings as he turned to leave.

Alone, Raushan decided to continue drinking...fully convinced her mole was probably dead; she decided one night drinking and having fun with a few officers wouldn't hurt. She just hoped he didn't squeal and tell the Germans everything about the Soviet's secret operation. Regardless...if she had to she had a cyanide pill hidden within the folds of her purse. Like hell would she give out precious information she knew! Though in matters like these she found the most thrilling part of her job...the always foreboding aura of danger biting at her heels was exhilarating, or some would say it was an adrenaline rush.

The sheer thought made a small smirk grow on her full red lips. She took another sip of wine feeling as though she had a pair of eyes on her. She shrugged slightly catching a reflection in the glass as she set it down. She ran her slender finger against the glass, debating whether to take a gander at the stranger that happened to be staring at her (Not that she minded). Her gaze slowly floated around the tavern before settling discreetly on the man.

Using her keen sense of deduction; she began to deduce him (if he was a threat to her or not). Her eyes scanned every inch of his exterior. Once in a while she caught a few glimpses of his uniform...but, she couldn't determine his rank.

Surprisingly, out of every soldier in the tavern or actually...any man she met...she found him rather appealing than the rest of the drunken officers, well actually the first who hasn't walked straight up to her and tried to get her to leave with them.

The music seemed to simmer into a drawl and disappear in the escalating voices of the tavern...it felt as though the partying had just started. Well, she had to give the Germans some credit...as much as she didn't particularly like being in this country...they certainly didn't let the war bother them...at least when they were surrounded by alcohol and women.

Raushan sighed lightly...finally deciding to make eye contact with the man. A flirtatious smile wavered on her full red lips as she adjusted herself effortlessly on the bar stool, so that she was slightly facing him, she didn't say anything at first...merely giving the man a Come Hither expression...it was as if she was beckoning him to come closer...which in fact she was.

" Gefällt Ihnen, was Sie sehen?"she mused...her stormy blues, locking on his,"Sind Sie gerade dabei, dort zu stehen und starren?" she teased in a seductive tone.

Translations:
"Nachfüllen bitte..." -- Refill please
" Meinst du nicht, du hattest genug?" -- Don't you think you had enough?
" Mach dir um mich Sorgen zu viel Liebling..."-- Don't worry about me too much darling...
" Gefällt Ihnen, was Sie sehen?" -- Do you like what you see?
"Sind Sie gerade dabei, dort zu stehen und starren?" -- Are you just going to stand there and stare?

(Well, Pretty much in this thread she's suppose to rondevu with her mole at the tavern so he could pass on some information to her. He hasn't shown up in a while...assuming at this point he could be hiding out because he was exposed or dead. So for Raushan is gonna do some improv and hopefully uncover useful information....or find someone to toy with XD. That's all I got so far XD.)

[Tristan Herman]

As her mouth uttered those words “Do you like what you see?” Tristan just about lost it. Not literally; he maintained a definite level of composure. He was taken quite aback. Him? The humble Bavarian boy minding his pint (okay, small cup) on the far end of the bar. All it took was her detailed, deep blue eyes to meet his own golden hazel. It went without saying that the mere shifting of her curves was a flirtation that few could ever match, never mind resist.

At her second beckoning, half of Tristan's mind instructed him that the entirely safe and logical course of action would be to hurriedly proceed to the large green double-doors of the tavern and avoid interaction with her altogether. This was unknown territory for him. No knowledge beyond a few romances he'd read some years ago. It didn't take someone of his intelligence to know that the books were utterly fantasized fabrications either.

And then there was the other half of his mind. The currently louder, more powerful part. The one that said this was a magnificent idea. [/i]You've got the gall! You can get this one! Finally! This was the same part of his mind, as he recalled, that encouraged him to do really daring/stupid things like run across an open field covered by opposing snipers or chuck AT grenades at tanks, or even stand up to his father. The part that he reckoned would eventually get him killed, maimed, or the latter followed by the former.

So, naturally, he listened to it.

Easy approach. One foot in front of the other to the bar stool. It seemed a feat not to trip for those agonizingly long seconds. He'd never done this before in his life. Not even once. Okay, just the once when he ran away to Austria some years ago. There had been a girl, Myrtle. Red head with freckles waiting his table in a brewery. He had been fourteen at the time, with little concept of how to talk to a woman. Truth be told, he could only bank on keeping the somewhat mythical (in a fourteen-year-old's eyes) outcome of sex in mind. And that is exactly what he did. From that occasion he learned two things: the first was not to hit on wait staff as they handle your food; the second was to never try and “seal the deal” by inquiring quite loudly “will you have sex with me, Myrtle?”

Somewhat nervous, but doing his best to repress the gut instinct of fleeing from her (after all, he was oh so confident in what not to do) Herman took the seat adjacent the mesmerizing and curvaceous being. She was perhaps more beautiful up close; the contrary to what one would expect. She had few flaws in her skin, if any. The skirt and top were all the more seductive at this range as well. His untrained eyes wandered to her chest just long enough to observe the...ahem...“pattern in her lace”. He blushed at his own lack of self control and looked away from her, searching for the barkeep. As the man passed briskly, Tristan waved him down, extending a finger and thumb from his left hand.

“Two glasses of Zinfadel; white.” Good. He wasn't yet choking on his own words. Speaking of which, he had yet to utter any to her in all her imposing beauty. It was becoming somewhat sad how “innocent” he was in this field of practice. Quickly shifting his gaze to look upon her eyes, as opposed to “something” else, he let the gears in his head work quickly. There had to be something in that overpowered brain of his that he could muster to produce a complement or significant merit.

“I don't understand why you would ever wear makeup; you don't seem to need it.” And just as he played it back to himself, he instantly regretted it. A terrible line he thought. Less than thirty seconds and he'd already cast off the mooring lines on this ship.



[[Ah yes; the hilarity of an inexperienced man. It brings a tear of laughter to my eye.]]

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

Raushan looked at the man as he approached her. Gears seemed to be turning in her mind as she began to deduce him more...he did not seemed to be of any threat to her...well, for now at least. He seemed to give off a nervous aura...was this his first time approaching a girl? Or something around those lines. Whatever it was Raushan found it quite amusing...especially when she caught him "observing" her chest. She quietly twirled one of her chocolate strands with her slender finger. She couldn't quite read him as easily as she did with others. This fact really irritated her...

She could practically hear her friends back at home say "Wooww!! one of the Soviet's top spies couldn't even deduce one measly German officer?" God...if her father Isoef found out he'd be turning in his grave right now. What more her employers? If they found out she had that sort of weakness she would be taken out within moments. No work...no money shit...I might need to be extra careful with this one...she thought as she took a few more sips of wine. The thought of her being exposed as a Soviet spy heavily lingered over her head now.

Raushan smiled her usual teasing smile when the man spoke...she was taken back slightly by what he said but brushed it off. She leaned in close; but not too close to make him uncomfortable wither her company. She slightly pressed the curve of her creamy thigh against his, "The color red reminds me of roses...the symbol of love and beauty...", her voice trailing off at the end...somewhat mimicking a purr, "Do you not like it?" she replied wittily, forming a slight pout with her lips.

True, Raushan never really wore make up...but, it wouldn't hurt using lipstick at least once in a while. Her mind shifted slightly thinking about where her mole could be. She was giving him the benefit of the doubt...given she already drank about 3 glasses of wine so far, even if he showed up Raushan was preoccupied at the moment. She quickly threw back the rest of the wine she was drinking with much fluidity. She set the wine glass down lightly without making the lucid glass tap hard against the hardwood of the bar table.

She ran her finger along her bottom lip, making sure that there weren't any stray droplets of wine running down her lip.
She gradually switched crossing her other leg on top the other, directing her full attention to the German soldier next to her, in hopes to start a conversation. It would be just awkward if they just sat there like two bumps on a log. "Haven't seen you around here...are you stationed here? Or are you on leave?" she asked with much curiosity.

She rested her chin against her shoulder lightly amongst the silky waves of her hair. A subtle sent of roses and citrus fruit from her perfume came off her hair as she innocently ran her fingers through the delicate curls. She shifted her gaze to his gold-hazel ones batting her eyes teasingly at him before draping her hand against her pale arm.

[Tristan Herman]

It seemed, as time progressed, that Tristan was building up something of an immunity to his own lack of tact. He was actually talking to her. In all of her beauty and seductive mystique. The Stabsgefreiter was beginning to think that he could do this. Maybe he could win a woman over of his own ability. His quick complement, despite his misgivings, seemed to give her something of a...well, it wasn't a look of absolute satisfaction, but she seemed tickled by it. “Cute” might have been the word to describe it.

At her posed question---of red, love, and beauty--though, he retracted again. Herman couldn't be sure, but it felt like the gender roles were utterly switched on him. Wasn't he, the man, supposed to be putting moves on her? Tucked away, the intellectual in him smelled something south of cheese. This was wrong. Wasn't it? His other head was hinting at the contrary. She was just a well traveled and experienced woman who enjoyed the company of a man more than most. With that, he snapped back into a place of some comfort, improvising the Hell out of the conversation. Even as the warmth of her shifted against him; her thigh brushing against him was pure bliss. His adrenaline spiked almost instantly. Were he an omniscient being, Tristan would have seen the irony in his “addiction” to adrenaline, likening him to Raushan in a way he would never have expected.

“I'm on furlough,” he responded, holding back the overt inhale he so desperately wished to take. Composure seemed like a logical route to continue impressing her. Being in control, no matter your gender, is always appealing; that he knew.

He also knew that it was time for a rebuttal of sorts. A follow-up. Perhaps a complement? Or a flirt? It all seemed so overly complicated to him. Learning languages and studying history seemed so much simpler. They were concrete, immovable things. Women were, on the other hand, variable in nature.

“I'll be honest, I don't really know how to handle a woman of such caliber or beauty.” He paused for brevity, and then added,“I'm Tristan.” The less intelligent head was beginning to suggest he move a hand under the counter and grab hold of a thigh, but whatever distorted form of Shakespearean chivalry he'd read and picked up on reminded him to take things in stride; the time didn't feel right.


[[Bow chicka' hum bow?]]

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

"Furlough?" repeated Raushan softly, "Well, no wonder you're here...seems only natural for a young man such as yourself to be drawn to a tavern..."she said with a smile wavering on her lips, "Was it the Alcohol that drew you? Or perhaps the women?".

She quite enjoyed flirting with this soldier....unlike others she had encountered; within a few minutes or seconds into the conversation their hands would be all over her. Drunk or not...at least this one had some courtesy.

She actually found his insecurity quite adorable and appealing in someway...but, she thought it would be better to keep that to herself, "You should try loosening up....I promise you...I don't bite..." she , resting her hand lightly against her sloping chest where it meets the top of her silk cammie.

She couldn't help but laugh a little when the soldier stated that he didn't know how to speak to women very well and smiled more at his compliment, "Well....It's nice to meet you Tristan..."she smiled again. She felt obliged to give him her name. She thought for a moment, trying not to make it obvious...she knew she couldn't give him her real name. The name Raushan obviously sounded Russian or in her case Belorussian, "I'm Roseline...." she replied, bringing the glass of white Zinfadel to her red plump lips, "Am I required to show my papers as well?" she mused, brushing her shoulder briefly against Tristan .

As soon as the decadent drink hit her lips..she could taste the sweetness of the fermented grapes dance on her taste buds. She arched her eyebrow exhaling a soft breath "By the way you have a good taste with wine...." She said running her pale finger against the rim of the glass, "I would have never taken you for a man who likes wine..." she teased...seeming rather impressed with his choice of wine.

She didn't want to come out too head strong with Tristan, thinking he might recoil into his insecurities if she flirted like she did with others. She cocked her head to the side trying to get a better look at him, slightly exposing part of her slender neckline, "Just talk to me as if I were talking to another person..." she said with a smile, "Or do you act like this even with the same sex?" she teased him.

She ran her fingers playfully against the sleeve of his uniform, "So...obviously you are in the army...may I ask what rank?" she mused, "Or would you rather have me guess?" she asked turning her body so she was facing him.

[Tristan Herman]

”Roslaine's” constant barrage of flirts was, if not overwhelming, difficult for him to keep up with to a certain degree. And why had he set foot in the tavern? Of course it had been to drink himself to the point of wiping his mind and forgetting the events of the past few months, but she didn't need to hear that. Besides, one could never be too sure how perked up the ears of the Gestapo are at a given time. Recounting the truth might be considered “defeatism” in a certain light; the general populace were to know as little as possible about the war as was achievable.

“Just to keep my mind of the war, Fraulein.” It was a quick, unedited, and contrite response. All she needed or wanted to know. A snicker here, a smile there. Not everything she said needed a response it seemed. He really was picking up on it; how to talk to her.

At her inquiry of rank, his response was quick again:

“Stabsgefreiter with the twenty-first Panzers. That's all I am allowed to say, really.” Now his turn.

“What are you, of all people, doing in a place like this though? It doesn't seem to suit you, Miss?” He took a taste of his wine, and deemed it acceptable.

“As for my taste in wine, I lived in Austria for a year when I was a boy. I learned a great deal about 'high' society...speaking of which, where are you from, Roseline?”

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

Raushan smiled simply in response hoping he'd say more...he didn't. She was half expecting a long life story of blood, sweat and tears that led him to where he was today. Well, that's what the men usually tell her...but , Tristan isn't like normal idiots...well, that's what she assumed. The fact that he'd just smile and snicker once in a while at her questions slightly bugged her. She never flirted with a guy that was so reluctant or just a tad insecure...this was quite a challenge for her; and honestly she kinda liked it. It kept the gears in her head turning...which she liked. She started to think he was like a stubborn piece to a difficult puzzle...with enough patience she would be able to find where the piece goes.

She playfully traced the seam of Tristan's sleeve as he answered her question about his rank. Tristan seemed to speak as though he were some sort of robot...or rather quickly...was he that nervous? Now she was just wildly assuming random crap: Did she smell?? No...she wouldn't even let anyone near her nor would she be out in public if she did....perhaps she had something in her teeth??? Her eyebrows furrowed forward a little in irritation...she really could not read Tristan.

Raushan pouted cutely when he didn't elaborate more his job...she sighed and pretended with much practice to brush it off...as long as he was still sober he wouldn't say a thing to her...perhaps after a few more drinks she'll ask another question about his rank. She smiled again taking another sip of wine as Tristan began to ask her a few questions. She shifted in her seat pressing her thigh against him again, though this time leaving it there a bit longer, "Well...just like you Herr Stabsgefreiter....Just to keep my mind off the war." she said cleverly quoting him.

Stay calm... she thought repeatedly...she constantly had to reminded herself that she had to look convincing as well as effortless. She listened as he explained he had lived in Austria for a year when he was a child, "Rheinland-Pfalz..." she replied simply taking a few more sips of wine, "You can fully tell where I get my love for wine..."she said flirtatiously.

She relayed wheat she said constantly through her head trying to see if she sounded fake or not. God...hopefully she didn't, she knew she had to act as if she were German and was from Rhineland. But as luck would have it...the wine was starting to get to her...She pushed the glass away from her casually, "Herr Stabsgefreiter...have you been to Rhineland?" she asked directing the attention off of her and back to Tristan...she couldn't afford to get drunk now.

[Tristan Herman]

“Once,” he answered, sipping his wind. Roseline was quickly losing hold of her liquor it seemed. Her eyes were getting a touch heavy, and her speech was starting to slur. Not to mention the subject matter was getting a tad personal.

“When the Fuhrer came into power, my Dad took me to a rally in Cologne. We only stayed the day.” He took another sip of the Zinfadel, remembering an instance of the girl “Bloo” from his childhood. Another thing he constantly had to forget. With that, he took a second, much larger gulp of the wine; the glass was just about finished with that introduction of alcohol, save for a few drops worth of the white-gold liquid.

As he firmly placed the glass against the counter-top again, his train of thought shifted to the question of “what next?”. A question indeed. That is to say he knew how most encounters such as this ended, but he wasn't quite sure that he wanted to go down that particular road tonight. His judgment was likely clouded in even the slightest amount by the two and a half drinks he'd had. Again, though, this woman was so, so very beautiful.

“I've been wondering the past few moments,” he began,“What exactly is it you want from me?” Tristan instantly caught the possible misconstruement such a question could undergo, and set about correcting himself.“Not that I thought you were demanding anything! Or that you're that kind of woman! I just---well---I mean...”He looked down to the counter, and clenched his eyelids tight a moment while he gathered himself.

“I've never been with a woman. And right now I am tripping over my words because I don't even know if I have anything to offer you,” he stated with a half-grin and a somewhat defeated tone. If one thing was working to his advantage, it was the sheer adorableness of his awkward demeanor and lack of experience.

“What would you like to do with the rest of the evening? This place isn't fitting for either of us; I'm a terrible drinker, and you're above most of the people here I'd say.” Silently, he continued to internally curse himself for his overly-proper speech pattern. He didn't know how to not use “big words”. Accuracy and contriteness made sense to him; say exactly what you mean, not something similar. This night was just filled with ironic contradictions.



[[Found Raushan's theme song: www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPyaGZu89Mk&list=FLdtn99LmV0xVrhVzh1UwTlA&index=11&feature=plpp_video ]]

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

"Shame...you should have stayed longer...Rhineland is such a beautiful place especially during the fall..." she said thoughtfully. She waved her hand a little to the bartender to bring her some water. In hope to drain the alcohol she had currently in her system. The bartender nodded and brought her a glass as Tristan began to ask what she wanted from him. Raushan took a few sips of water...feeling the intoxicated fog subside slightly. She place the glass down and laughed softly as Tristan began to stumble on his words.

She had the urge to call him adorable but...she felt that it might make him feel worse. She smiled leaning against him, but not too much, her hand resting lightly against his forearm,"Well...I caught you staring at me a few times...thought you might need some company." she said softly, "Not a lot men just sit and stare at women like a deer in headlights..." she said tilting her head towards him. She flashed him another teasing smile and leaned away from him.

She took another few sips of water feeling a tad less drunk now. She had to admit...Tristan was rather easy on the eyes...not too bad to look at actually. But, she had to remember she was on a mission to help take down Hitler's empire. She couldn't afford to lose focus...but, on the other hand Tristan may prove to be of use to her...maybe. She wasn't quite sure about him yet. He was adorable and pretty good looking. She'll give him that much credit...did she think that was just an act? Possibly.

Raushan took another gulp of water as Tristan continued to talk. She laughed quietly when he stated that he hasn't been with a woman before."Offer me?"repeated Raushan, she thought for a moment, "You can pay for the drinks...."she mused lightly...of course she only teased him about that. She shrugged her shoulders softly reaching for her purse to pull out some money to pay for her drinks. She stopped when Tristan then asked what she would like to do for the rest of the night.

She sat there for a moment debating whether to agree to go with him, then ditch him at some point during the night, turn him down right off the bat, or let him down easy...either way her curiosity might just get the best of her, "What do you mean?"she said finally. She sat her purse down and looked at Tristan with pure curiosity in her eyes. Another song came up on the radio and the group of German soldiers with their dates began to sing obnoxiously again.

Her gaze flitted over to the group sneering slightly at them for interrupting them.She turned her attention back to Tristan as the group began to settle down slightly, "Rather lively tonight...don't you agree??" she asked resting her pale rose cheek against the palm of her pale hand.

(LOL~~ Certainly sounds like a theme I would have chosen for Raushan~ Nice song choice XD)

[Tristan Herman]

“Deer in headlights?” He smiled at her, and quickly returned,“Who wouldn't look at you in awe and curiosity, Roseline?” He looked back to his wine glass, turning it in his hand, a hint of nervousness present. It seemed a far better decision for Herman to channel it into a rudimentary motor-function.


“What I mean by that is do you have any plans beyond drawing the attention of every man in the room tonight? It's only eight. The night is still fresh and young,” he casually slipped a Reichmark across the battered chestnut bar top mid-sentence, taking care of their drinks,“So how would you like me to show you a wonderful time?”

'Where did that come from?' Tristan thought. Either way, he liked what he was implying; still maintaining a sense of chivalry, but keeping things somewhat suave. No sooner did he speak than the group behind them took things up a notch, singing off-key to a Marlene Dietrich song; the name of it did not come to mind.

The was the usual urge to turn around and ask them to quiet down as politely as possible, but “Roseline” was far too enticing and picturesque to turn from. It was better to savor every passing moment as a good memory should she turn him down. After all, it may have been the first and last time he would lay eyes on a woman as near perfect as she. Nay, she was perfect. She had to be.

“There are certain people who cannot sing. I am one of them, and so are they. The difference between us is that I know it, and choose not to cause anyone the discourtesy of being deaf.” Tristan quickly finished off his drink, and placed it back on the bar with a brief “ting” of the glass. A fleeting hope that they hadn't heard him came and went in his mind; he was sure they didn't.

“If nothing else, as to my proposition, allow me the chance to do so some other time if not tonight. Please.” He really did hope she would say yes, though. So very much, he hoped.

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

"Awe and curiosity?" she cooed, running her slender finger along the side of Tristan's cheek, "You're charming...I'll give you that much credit..."she laughed scooting her body so she was leaning against the the bar. Raushan took one last look at the wine glass debating whether she should finish it or not. She frowned and decided to drink the rest of her water instead.

She smiled lightly as Tristan continued to speak; she set her glass down gently trying to make very little noise as possible so she wouldn't interrupt him. She watched as he slipped a Reichmark cross on to the table. She thought for a moment about what he said....Well, he did pay for my drinks... she thought casually looking up at him, she smiled softly then directed her attention the drunkards who were singing off key again.

She shook her head in amusement while their backs were turned. Wow they must be really drunk... thought Raushan. She was quite amused when they began to slur and stumble on the lyrics of the song...she couldn't help but let a few soft giggles escape her lips.

She turned her gaze back to Tristan as he spoke. She laughed again as he stated that some people cannot sing,"How mean...you shouldn't say something like that.."she mused, "I'm sure you're singing is more beautiful than Marlene Dietrich." she said smiling at him again.

Raushan quickly eyed the table to see if anyone of them had heard him and giggled again. She smiled mischievously...her interest slightly peeking in amusement, "Very tempting offer..." she replied with the same amount of tease in her voice, "I suppose I have nothing better else to do..." said Raushan playfully as she grabbed her purse and pea-coat, "Should I ask where you'll be taking me? or is it a surprise...." she said softly with a hint of sarcasm.

Raushan slid off the bar stool, she smoothed the wrinkles and folds of her black skirt, making sure it didn't ride up and fixed her laced top. She gave her pea-coat a few pats dusting off any dust or crumbs or at least pieces of peanuts from the bar. Effortlessly she began to slip on her pea-coat; tucking her small purse into the pea-coat's deep pocket.

(Sorry if it's short Herman XC after I'm moved into my dorm my next post will be a bit better.)

[Tristan Herman]

Chills ran up the young man's spine as the Fraulein stroked his cheek ever so gently. A touch that, Tristan imagined, few other than angels could drum up; reason assured him that she was one of the few, if not an angel herself; what a cliché. He couldn't help but roll his shoulders as her nail tickled his cheekbone with it's presence.

Her commentary on his presumptively “beautiful” singing voice urged a short burst of laughter.

“No, no, it's really, really rather bad...” he returned, smiling.“You, on the other hand, could probably slay an army with yours; am I wrong?” He gave her a smirk upon finishing his little flirt.

At her acceptance, Tristan slipped forward from the stool, rising to his feet nervously, and searching his person to ensure he was not leaving anything behind for the patrons to swipe or the barkeep to make a phone call over (provided he was in the mood to do so of course).

A surprise? Herman thought to himself. Sure, why not?

“If it wasn't a surprise, I'd be wasting your time, wouldn't I?” In the strictest sense, a perfectly innocent and logical response; anything that is not surprising is, by logic, something one has seen before, is it not? But Tristan, being himself, took a moment to realize the double-meaning. His chipper demeanor helped to prove the point, uttering the phrase with a smile.

If the night continued the way it had been going, he was liable to lose that nickname: Smiles.

Smiles! Because he never does!

Unterfoheringer See was nice in Munich this time of year. If he was lucky, the lake would have iced over as well.



[[Quality over quantity. I try not to stretch posts if I see no reason to. It's a good rule of thumb. c; ]]

[Raushan Ilyinichna Kaptsova]

Raushan smiled in amusement as she watched Tristan let out a brief laugh. She laughed too finding his laugh a bit contagious. Her smile broadened a bit when he said she could slay armies with her's. True...she did take a bit of choir when she was in boarding school but, she was never as good as the rest of the girls, "I don't know Tristan..."she said seductively, "You tell me..." she said returning his smirk.

She watched him carefully as he slipped off the bar stool and checked himself if he had everything. She looked away briefly, reminding herself not to get too close to this German soldier. She had to remember she was here to do a job...and her skills were necessary to determine whether the mission will turn out to be a success or not.

That was the very reason and only reason why the Soviets sent her deep into Nazi occupied territories....she wouldn't be here if she wasn't the best at what she does.

The best...pfft more like lucky ass B**** was in a sense more accurate way of putting things. Everything she was doing...every single detail of this night was only a mere act or in a way a deadly game of chess that could easily end in her utter destruction if she made the wrong move. For that reason she knew she was taking a big risk going on this little outing with Tristan. He seemed like a nice man. Too nice on her part. Not all men here were as nice as him. Well, from her past experiences...and her chosen occupation made it rather difficult for her to just open up to anyone...never the less allow herself to give her heart fully to man.

Raushan quickly zoned back into reality when she heard Tristan speak again. She brushed it off as if she was distracted by the drunken idiots in the tavern, "Well...I like surprises..." she cooed softly, "But, wasting my time...well...if you were...I wouldn't have minded it...being courted by someone as you is time well spent." she replied with yet another flash of her signature smile as he smiled back at her.

Raushan moved effortlessly in a very fluid motion; clasping her arms comfortably around Tristan's arm, "It's rather chilly outside..."she mused, resting her pale rosen cheek against the Stabsgefreiter's sleeve. She batted her eyes innocently hoping he wouldn't mind her linking her arm with his.