Jazz played in the background— it was basically banned to all common ears, but here amongst high ranking officers, industrialists and politicians, anything and everything was available. If you had money or power, you could have whatever you wanted, regardless of the Furher's rhetoric. The dimly lit room was veiled by a blanket of smoke and alcohol flowed freely, as did the inhibitions of the men in the room. Many if not most of them had wives, but they shamelessly flaunted themselves with the women in the room— some were whores, some daughters of wealthy men and some were simply the servants who worked here.<br/><br/>Garrison took a sip from his glass, finishing off the amber liquid and tapping his cigar lightly. It was a the same type of Cigars that Churchill smoked— and had been labeled contraband by the regime. The red collar of the cigar caught the eye of a officer; a young Lieutenant who was by all means a nationalistic zealot.<br/><br/>With a stiff walk and a cocked head the blonde haired blue eyed man walked towards the man clad in a pinstripe suit and red tie. "Herr, I am sorry but is that a La Roma de Cuba?" Garrison's eyes flicked up as he pulled from the cigar. "Yes it is. Lieutenant are you an aficionado of cigars as well?"<br/><br/>"I am not, but I recognized that product as a piece of contraband, I'm afraid you may not smoke it and I must confiscate it from you or—"<br/><br/>Garrison cut him off by blowing a cloud of smoke into the boy's face, "Or what?" He asked as he stood, towering over the young officer while buttoning his suit jacket. "You'll attempt to arrest me? Drag me away to the SS?" He took another drag of his cigar before extinguishing it, "I'm assuming your father is a high ranking officer— it's the only way an idiot like you would be able to rise to your rank so young."<br/><br/>He picked up his new glass of scotch and took a sip, "Do you hear what's playing the background? Music that is forbidden, sacrilegious to your nationalistic cause. Some of those whore's you've probably fucked are some poor Jewish sluts that were unfortunate enough to be pretty enough to be of some<i>use</i>to our Furher's inner circle. That idealistic vision that our leader forges is nothing but a mirage, a ploy to control weak minded fools such as yourself into thinking that there is only one truth. Don't mistake your uniform for power."<br/><br/>"That gun you're reaching for was manufactured in<i>my </i>factories, and if you wish to remain here with your colleagues and not shipped out to the eastern front, I suggest you learn how to mind your business." Garrison flicked his hand as if he was swatting away an annoying fly. "Leave me."<br/><br/>Garrison's green eyes settled back on the seat behind him for a moment, before he noticed a dark haired beauty walk through the doors. He cocked his head lightly as his eyes followed her, not even blinking for a moment.