Hanz-Eren listened to Alexia as she goes on about her background, thinking of his own upbringing in the middle of the war. As she mentioned paying for the hot chocolate herself, he shakes his head with a firm expression. "I insist. I offered you to have something to drink, and I stand by it." He looks at his watch and frowns. He waves the waiter over, who again hurries past tables and customers to get to him in a satisfactory time window. He stands at attention and looks at Hanz-Eren with more than a little nervousness.<br/><br/>"Yes,<span style="font-style: italic">Mein Herren</span>?" He asks stiffly. Hanz-Eren opened his wallet and pulled out a few notes. "One tea, scone, and hot chocolate. Keep the change." The waiter nodded with obvious relief, took the money, and stepped aside to leave the way to the exit door open to the two. "Thank you, sir, please come again." Hanz-Eren nodded, picked up his hat and coat, and gave Alexia a stiff, shallow bow. "Well, then. I must be off - I would have escorted you at leart part way, but I am afraid I am on a schedule. I look forward to meeting you again. Two days, four in the afternoon." He hurried toward the exit and left the building in a thundering stride, never leaving Alexia with much room for reply.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">The next day, 9:21 a.m., somewhere in East Berlin</span><br/><br/>Hanz-Eren stood by his office window and looked outside at the traffic below. The workday had begun, and the streets were relatively quiet. He looked in the direction of the restaurant he had met Alexia the day before, silently cursing himself for not leaving more courteously. He opened a pack of cigarettes and lit one up, just in time to hear a knock on his door. "Come in," he said, turning from the window and taking a seat behind his desk.<br/><br/>In came an elderly Russian with a grim expression, heavy-set torso and a neatly trimmed grey beard. He nods at Hanz-Eren and has a seat in front of him, puffing a little on a cigar. He waits for a full minute before speaking. "Stasi and KGB are in agreement. You will get a new office downtown at Stasi HQ. Since it was your idea, comrade Brecht and myself agreed to have you coordinate the team. You obviously have some ideas." Hanz-Eren had expected this. However, he leaned back in his chair and took a deep drag of his cigarette, before speaking in a manner more humble than he felt. "If you think it best, sir. I will do my best to get the office up and running immediately." The old Russian nodded at him. "Make sure you hire a decent secretary. You're going to need one." This, Hanz-Eren had not expected. A secretary? Well, that fit him just fine. "I met a girl at that pet restaurant of mine yesterday. She said she was looking for work, and seemed bright enough." The old Russian puts his cigar out of his mouth and dumps some of its ash in the ashtray on the table. "By all means. You're a KGB inquisitor now, so if you think she's worth the shot, I will not second-guess you. You better begin packing up here, you start over the weekend." Hanz-Eren nodded at his commander. "Thank you, sir, I shall not disappoint you." The old Russian got up from his seat and smiles at Hanz-Eren. "I know you won't, comrade."