Shock was the least of things Garrison was feeling at the moment. But he quickly gained his composure as he watched the sway of her hips while she stormed off. He had taken her for a common whore rather than a woman actually interested in him. That or at least a gold digger. The later was all too common. He cocked his head and bit his lower lip for a moment before turning to the bar tender and handing him a sufficient number of marks to pay his tab and tip.<br/><br/>Grabbing his coat, Garrison flagged down Herr Herricks-- a ranking SS Officer. "I have a mission for you my friend," he pushed and placed his hand on the man' side uniformed shoulder, "Find me that woman's home. I would like to have a civil conversation with her." He smiled lightly and walked away without waiting for affirmation-- his request was more of an order and it would be carried out. Officers within the military and its branches knew of him, and his influence with the Fuher (it also helped that his elder cousin was the Desert Fox).<br/><br/>Making his way out and donning his navy blue fedora, Garruson entered his Mercedez Benz and was driven to his home in downtown Berlin. It had been an interesting evening indeed.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">***​</div><br/>The next afternoon Garrison's lunch meeting was interrupted by an urgent telegram from the SS. It detailed the name and information of the Frauline that had slapped him at the bar. A small smile curved up on his lips as he folded the paper and tucked it into his coat pocket. "My dear friend," he paused wiping his mouth with a napkin and standing, "urgent business calls. I must cut our meeting short. I hope you do understand." He offered his hand and shook his Factory Manager's hand.<br/><br/>"Herr Rommel does it have to deal with the--" The manager asked before being cut off by Garrison, "It does not. It is a personal matter. I will speak with you tomorrow."<br/><br/>Waving him off, Garrison left and promptly made his way to his car. "Jon, take me home first and then to a flower shop." His driver nodded his head and did exactly as requested.<br/><br/>By three, Garrison had reached the Frauline's residence. It was a saint little walk up that had once been a townhouse. The residents weren't exactly poor but they weren't affluent either and clearly Frauline didn't have much money if she lived on the fifth floor. Going up the stairs, Garrison found himself panting lightly-- he would need to cut back on the cigars and the steak.<br/><br/>He hoped that she wasn't home. He knocked and waited for an answer to find none. There had been a time when Garrison had learned to pick doors-- it was less of out of necessity and more as a way to scare his sister when she was locked away in her reading. Luckily he had also come prepared.<br/><br/>Placing down the flowers and the three bottles-- a bottle of red, white and champagne, he began the process of picking the lock, which surprisingly wasn't that challenging. Some skills aren't that easily forgotten.<br/><br/>Making his way in, he found two glasses and set them on the small dining room table. Foraging for candles he had them ready with matches and placed them on the holder. Now he would simply have to wait.