The walk back to her pew felt tilted.  It may have even looked that way, but the officer knew better than that.  Well, she would have were she not so dazed - she simply wasn't aware of her surroundings any more than subconsciously.  She abstractly followed the sheep then the aisle, and finally turned into her seat without a real predication to do so; even her żuchwa hung loose, a gap below her szczęka. In layman's terms, her lips parted.  The expression was unladylike, emphasized by the stare she gave the men upfront.  He stared back for a while, until another required his attention, and the world reverted to it's normal state.  She felt the pressure lift.  It was present still, but no longer as heavy, as prevalent - like the silence of the night, or the sun behind closed eyes - a residual<span style="font-style: italic">buzz</span>reverberating in her person as she brought herself back to reality.<br/><br/>"Are you alright, Frau Wojcik?"<br/><br/>Her head came around to the inquirer.  Fabiano.  She had forgotten he was there, or she had expected he would have left.  She wasn't sure now, but taking in the physical sight of him helped to ground her, and her blank stare transitioned to something confused, from there to something serious, intentionally blank now.<br/><br/>She closed her lips.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Officer</span>Wojcik."<br/><br/>He lowered his gaze, an embarrassed motion, and nodded once.  "Right," he answered distractedly, speaking in the common Deutsch now.<br/><br/>She analyzed him more thoroughly then.  He was uncertain of this place and his being in it, but he looked mostly at ease despite going over the possibilities and his options in his head for what could have been the hundredth time since her informing.  They were alike for the moment, both awed by the introduction of a stranger.  It was comforting in some respects, but mostly the woman didn't consider it a good thing - she was very certain of her place in the world, and any disturbance of that could only be a distraction to His plan.  Her input of Seniore Fabiano was to fulfill her duty, to the nation of Germany or of God, and get her back on track.<br/><br/>She sat back with him, not relieved by her decision at all, but suddenly very tired.  The two stared at nothing as mass concluded, the "crowd" beginning to take it's leave of the sacred ground, and the man that distracted her so turned away to his chambers.  It often took a while for aftermass prayers and clean-up, preparation for the next sermon to be made, so that gave them plenty of time to get her work done before meeting him at the Kaffeehaus.<br/><br/>"Come," said the officer to her charge, "Let us take you to the infirmary."<br/><br/>Fabiano gave her an easy nod.  "I am fine.  Are you,<span style="font-style: italic">Commander</span>?" he asked, possibly intending sarcasm in his emphasis, but it did not translate in his tone.<br/><br/>The two stood, but where she moved hastily toward the exit, feeling more and more in control of herself once more, eager to regain her reality, Fabiano lingered.  She looked back at him, flustered, glaring even.  That wasn't like her, so she took a breath and released it via her flaring nostrils.  Then, she regarded the patient with a steady calm and tight chest, manually contracting her diaphragm on behalf of her lungs and her patience.  She had to rewrap her feet in peace, the readiness was compensating.<br/><br/>He reached her just as he regained his composure.  "Better?"<br/><br/>Irritation flared for just a moment.  It cooled just as quickly.  It was Yvonne's turn to lower her gaze, embarrassed, as humility took it's place once more.  She whispered an affirmation, and looked into his eyes again, which level with hers as she stood a step below, making humility difficult to maintain.  Letting slip a partial smile, the urge to laugh subsiding, she told him, "Thank you."<br/><br/>He, again, simply nodded.  The humble gesture allowed Yvonne to turn and continue her path, leading him to the automobile.  She steered toward the straightway, taking her time to allow pedestrians to cross - they were very hesitant to put themselves in front of a military vessel.  Eventually they would go, rushing across, some electing to do so behind her all the same.  The diversion brought her to sit in front of the cafe and she stared for a moment, using her chin to direct Fabiano's attention.<br/><br/>"This is the Kaffeehaus where I am to meet a leader of the community."<br/><br/>The man looked at it, then at her.  His statement was clear, why was she telling him this.  She removed the key from the ignition and threw them at him.  "I believed this was yours. I could be wrong, but either way it will need to go back to the Fuhrer and I am needed here.  Continue on this road and turn it in.  They can direct you to the infirmary and you can report in that you spoke with Mem'selle Devereaux and she is unaware of the rebellion traffic in the clinic, but you are returning to meet Commander Wojcik on the matter in an hour.  I should be done then, and I need you present to make my report to the Fuhrer."<br/><br/>Fabiano's brows rose at the plan.  He either hadn't recalled who she was or he never believed her position - either way the man was still arrogant.  She still hadn't decided whether she would report his insubordination at the church, making her wait for him.  The humble reaction afterward, however, made her believe he might be capable of redemption, and she did still need to look into the disappearance of her man sent to the clinic, which also meant she would need a replacement.  Officer Fabiano could still be of some use to her.  She would let her commanding officer decide, exiting the vehicle before the Italian could protest.<br/><br/>She didn't look back as he drove away, giving as much care as she had to the passersby.  Savable yet.  Entering the little shop, the aroma assailed her and she took it in with disgust.  The filtered bean water never struck her fancy, and she immediately ordered hot water with lemon on the side, attracting the odd stare of a man as he passed her for the door, departing another man who settled himself into a back table.  He didn't need to wear the uniform to be identifiable.<br/><br/>Gestapo Udo "Bluthund" Drechsler.  Commander Wojcik had been eager to meet such a strong follower of the Fuhrer, but she was certain she would have heard of his arrival in Munich.  It did not make her wary, per se, but it might have warranted an introduction.  Especially now getting the same inky feeling from him as the other two officers she had met this night, excluding herr Fabiano who was a victim to one; however, it seemed less a part of him as simply hanging around him.  There was definitely something more going on in this town, and seeing Drechsler here now made that all the more apparent, all the more relevant, and clearly connected.  She asked the waiter to put her drink on hold until she finished with<span style="font-style: italic">die Bedürfnisanstalt</span>.  She would find out.