<img alt="" src="http://i60.tinypic.com/2eb7ep3.png" style="float:right; padding:6px;"/><span style="color: #BFBFBF">“You are a pursuer of truth, I believe, Senorita.” He poured himself a glass of champagne, then another passing it to her with his held over the center of the table.  Yvonne eyed the captain briefly before smiling with camaraderie.  “To a fair meal,” he offered, almost automatic.<br/><br/>“To truth, seniore,” she rebutted, clinking the flute against his then lifting it to her lips. They flushed bright against the liquid, the woman closing her eyes to savor another of his fine choices in such endeavors, trying not to enjoy his pleasing predictability.  This one man would entertain her for the ride, but she wasn’t quite sure how he intended to do that just yet.  She ate silently, pretending to be thoroughly uninterested in his answer, provoking him all the more to give it, until he finally would, that is.<br/><br/>“An honest question conjures a sincere answer,” he announced across the linen and meal, his tone carefully controlled leisure, but no less serious.  “Indeed, this is a meeting of business. I have a lot to discuss with you and this includes your Jewish refugees.”  She was surprised he brought it up with such nonchalance and she tilted her head slightly, the only indication.  He continued, “You have worked your heart out, for a good cause. We have not had the chance yet to discuss this ... sudden change of heart, but one day you will lie on the field feeling exhausted, feeling victorious. For a good cause, it is always worth risking ... everything you possess, including your rank in the Reich and ... your life.”<br/><br/>His eyes lifted to hers, and they were there, waiting to meet his with equal command, but patience to hear him out.  If he was threatening her life, she would be prepared to take him.  If he was trying to warn her in some other respect, she was not afraid and would show that she owed him no debt for such intrigue.  She was no angel of the feeble, the young, the weak, the meek, the small - she would protect them as any follower of God, but she was His Warrior, and she would fight for Him until her very breath left her body for the last time.  <br/><br/>He raised a brow at her, eyes darkening with some thought, some emotion she didn’t know. The Grazzienelli men had a way of expressing through their eyes without revealing a thing that made her think so thoroughly it practically brought her to immediate frustration.  She steeled herself against that look, distracting herself with a vagrant disregard for his expression in favor of the soup.  The taste was a gentle shock on the bud of her tongue again, the zest and spice of an Italian broth splashing across her pallette which took as much effort not to distract her too fully from his words.<br/><br/>“I have not been able to find rest since our last encounter.”  She sat slowly upright, listening now with genuine interest.  Something in his demeanor, she saw now, meant no threat to her at all, or even the arrogance of gift horses.  He was trying to open up to her. To convey something with which words might fail.  That he was not withholding information as still sorting it out himself, yet giving her respect rather than simply demanding his own. “The revelation you bestowed upon me left me thinking for days, for nights. It only rose even more questions within my very mind, Yvonne.”<br/><br/>She was still uncertain with the way he played with his words.  The ambiguity confused her more than anything, and some part of her required a consideration for the paranoid, that these idle phrasings were keeping her from seeing the true intent behind, a knife at the back.  While another, far quieter voice - and all the more attention given for it - whispered, “what if he is?  Is being honest?”  If so, what was he being so honest about?<br/><br/>He distracted himself with another sip of the stock much like she had only moments before, except his eyes fell away.  There was more to say from that small difference than in the many notable ones between them, of any dynamic that could be appointed.  “But ... Aristotle once said that pleasure in the job puts perfection in the work, and business is a job.”<br/><br/>Yvonne’s hair tickled her shoulder as she realized her head had tilted again.  It was a quirk she couldn’t seem to avoid no matter how much she tried, and she smirked with uncertainty to try and cover the natural movement if it was possible.  “Indeed…” she interjected, encouraging rather than interrupting.  It was an honest reply, though one she had never really considered so.  She worked with the pride and desire deserving her faith to her Lord, and it could be worded with such application from the scholar.<br/><br/>This reaction was apparently enough for the man, who leaned in conspiratorially and whispered with as much gusto as he told her, “Here, in your trip, you do not need to look at your watch. Time is frozen and you are surrounded by water... there is nowhere for you to go.”  Her lids may have parted with the faintest of distance, but she could not fully consider this with that same paranoia as the second voice waited on his other words. “Only pleasure you can find. Pleasure and business, absolutely.  Like business, pleasure comes in variant forms ... and scales. The highest, my Dear, is of an utterly …”<br/><br/>She watched his chest raise with excitement as he found the words for which he had been looking.  “Like business, pleasure comes in variant forms ... and scales. The highest, my Dear, is of an utterly ... intoxicating physical reflex and of sublime, ahhh, brutal intensity!”  A part of her actually might have rung with fear, fighting down the contagion of the other half that fed off his energy.  He was, essentially, telling her to “let loose” but as he continued, lifting his spoon with intoxicated reason, she recognized the mental portal between them.  This man currently resided in another world.  His was impassioned and possibly fantastic, leading him down a path that maybe even God couldn’t foresee, each choice bring him to the edge of the abyss and another toward the gates of heaven again. <br/><br/>The question was: did she really think she wanted no part in such a world?<br/><br/>“Some made the choice not to discover it, out of fear of losing touch with reality, or God.  So what kind of pleasure did you refer to when you asked your question, Senorita?’’ <br/><br/>Yvonne shook her head, this some sort of instinctive response to his fanatic speech.  She knew it did not cover the depths of his question, but she drew herself back and settled back into her seat, chuckling with precise measure.  “I’m sorry, I’m afraid you lost me.  I guess if I’m stuck here, I will encounter all versions and have to decide at that crossing, won’t I?”  It wasn’t untrue, but she felt the sensation of a lie building in her chest, a terrible thing to settle near her heart, heavy as lead and yet light as the drink in her glass, trying without warrant to bubble up her throat.  He had caught her in her own question, making her wholly uncomfortable, and she gave her attention to the soup, swallowing down this feeling until she could gather her wits once more.</span><br/><br/><br/><br/><img alt="" src="http://i57.tinypic.com/s6ummo.png" style="float:left; padding:6px;"/><span style="color: #BFBFBF">One German-born theoretical physicist and philosopher of science of this age said not too long ago, that the important thing was not to stop questioning because curiosity had its own reason for existing. The man sitting across the table from the dame with one spark in his eyes of mutual interest in the matter, smiled and pushed his soup aside in order to consume his main meal. He strongly believed that this genetically-encoded force that made the minds wonder, sought the knowledge of the reality behind the imagination rather than for its offensive portrayal in society; excitement prevailed. A curious mind helps one understands the extent of one's ignorance, but it always remains, a blessing or a curse. Words began to form upon his lips but instead of speaking them to answer the question she had asked, Luciano began to eat his meal slowly, giving the other a chance to do just the same, but a sly smile somewhere lurking in the corners of his lips never left his face. His eyes, every now and then would float into her springs.<br/><br/>‘I’m sorry, I’m afraid you lost me.  I guess if I’m stuck here, I will encounter all versions and have to decide at that crossing, won’t I?’ Even though they allowed for the silence to reign for few minutes, her words lingered in his mind. Even if he was to give an answer to her very last question, this man wondered if simple options such as yes for an answer or not for the other, would fill her mind with pure disappointment rather than passionate curiosity unexplored. <br/><br/>Setting his fork aside, Luciano raised a piece of cloth to his lips and briefly dabbed a corner of his mouth. The last vestiges of a pair of wondering orbs left for a ululating desire to resonate within the man endlessly. He was drunk in it. The words again upon his lips he sought to speak previously before simply hanged there as his lips parted, silently gazing at her. He rose from his feet to switch the lights on in the wheel room but instead of returning to the table, couple short steps led him to a rectangular desk hosting certain utilities. But on top of the steel surface, Luciano picked up a silky blue pouch, half the size of a hand and placed it inside his pockets. He returned to his guest.<br/><br/>The lusciousness want and need to give this woman a chance to plunge into his mind, to understand what knowledge he knew of the matter, ate at him painfully. He wondered just how much she knew herself. “Senorita, the truth in my answer is not something I can guarantee in your case. Certain versions you may be able to attain on yourself, but others are frustrating enough to achieve by ourselves alone.” He moved closer, eyes fell to her profile as he uttered his words softly, closely to her ear. “What I mean to say is that, would you be willing to acquiesce to the most wanted of indescribable pleasures if you encounter it during your crossing, but one that you cannot penetrate to discover … alone?” Her fragrance almost pulled him closer and closer to her just like that one night in the hotel room. As if history repeated itself he resisted that one sudden  burning ache to crush his lips to hers, entrap her hips in hands, and the growls low in his chest endlessly in tune with the hunger in his eyes; to quench a selfish thirst.<br/><br/>He pulled away. His comfortable posture leaned over the table to pick up the champagne and fill their glasses again before offering a continuity to his words. “So will you encounter all versions? That is the question. Ah, I highly doubt it I am afraid, unless you are willing to give up comfort and pride to secure your quest, Commander, while avoiding the greater pain.” With an apparent sarcastic smirk and an unembarrassed honesty he did not care to hide, he paused to hear her say in that if she wanted to share any. The night was young, but so were their next.</span>