The blonde officer stepped back into the venue, pulling her jacket straighter under the tight belt with a quick sweep of her hand.  The breath in she administered to the lungs of her weary body was refreshing and cool despite the warm aroma of coffee in the air of the cafe.  She scanned the open seats until spotting the man she was looking for - both of them.  Drechsler was along the perimeter and first in her view, however, her eyes carried on with a gentle pull toward the blonde man in the corner behind him.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Raphael.  </span>Yvonne's eyes widened as she took in the father, as surprised by his attendance as her reaction to it, recalling him by his first name.  Immediately deciding it was simply an audiopathic preference, she stepped closer, her small heels making a low clack against the floorboards she was acutely aware of for no particular reason.  She was on edge.  That was ridiculous, she was simply meeting new people that could well contribute to the Fuhrer's campaign - one of them, at least, had already been doing so proudly with fierce execution.<br/><br/>The thought was consoling, making her realize that it was the regard she held them in that had her... uneasy.  Nearer now, she could feel that same pulsating nag toward both of them, though one could only be described as dark while the other light.  It wasn't a visual sensation by any means.  At best, potentially tactile.  The darker was more repulsive which acted as a challenge to her will and thus nearly won out, but it was then that Father Fischer looked up to see her closer than the front doorway where his attention had been more or less adhered, though he didn't appear as surprised by her presence as she had been by his.  His gentle smile comforted her and she turned to her right.<br/><br/>"Apologies, Father, I must make a brief introduction of myself.  One moment?"  She asked and paused long enough to receive his answer before sliding to the next table.  "Pardon me, Officer Drechsler," she said, his eyes looking up at her reflection in the glass and making a short assessment of the woman before turning his head slowly to meet her olive gaze, bags under his own blue one and stubble on his chin.  Despite these flaws, and the casual wear of his wool coat, he was well-kept and aloof, somehow sitting even straighter than before.  It likely made for an effective barrier to the social, his silent disregard for approach, but the commander found it reassuring in a business-like measure; she wouldn't be forced into any commitment of conversation.<br/><br/>Herself straightening in response, she told him,   "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting before, but your reputation proceeds you, and I must personally thank you on behalf of our Fuhrer.  I am commanding officer Yvonne Wojcik."  She blinked slowly, then inclined her head without losing eye contact.  It could have been construed as flirtatious, especially by onlookers, or recognized as a simple hello... from one predator to another.  Non-threatening.  Unintimidated.  With respect.  "Welcome to Munich.  What brings you?  Business?"<br/><br/>She was eager to speak with him, but she also tread lightly, uncertain of the stranger, and moreover the atmosphere about him that seemed so out-of-place.  The heightened senses of this situation were more energizing to her than a night's rest or the awful stuff on the table before the Bluthund, and she maintained it with dignity before these two, though she may have reacted with a little more enthusiasm.  As long as it went over civilly, then everything would turn out just fine.