"You always got right down to business. Skipped the pleasantries.  That was something I always enjoyed about you when you were a little girl."<br/><br/>The smile of the gentleman did not register at the forefront of her mind, it screaming things long lost to new memories over the years.  There were so many of them.<br/><br/>Yvonne kept her mouth shut, keeping the new information at hand but pushed aside so that she might amend it as he continued.  The father was about to do so when the waitress returned for her order, filling his mug with the brewing, muddy liquid while she recommended something.  Agreeing absently, the woman nodded once and then took the fathers likely heartier order, nodding again and departing.  Raphael - Father Fischer turned back to his guest and came back to mock her with the subject in question.<br/><br/>"Yvael," he said, taking a sip, "we have met before. I know this is disconcerting because you did not know me in this current form. I knew your mom and your father."  Her eyes widened freely.  That could only mean one thing.  "Your father is very close to me and my brothers. The last time I saw him was maybe three months ago. He is doing well, if you are curious."<br/><br/>"Last evening I was sipping coffee and eating corn bread in a small cafe near the church. It is one of those small family shops that sell home baked goods. You may have seen it this morning? Anyway, last night, while I was sipping my coffee, I detected your presence. I knew you were nearby. It warmed my heart, but I could also feel who you were with. It surprised me at first because I have not seen you in many, many years. In fact, the last time I laid eyes on you, you were very small and very young. It took me some time to realize who you were. I had time to dwell on that, and your presence in church this morning confirmed it for me. I am very happy to see you, Yvael Wojcik."<br/><br/>She took a deep breath.  All this... data was coming in far too fast for her to make sense of, though she refused to let it show.  Yvonne laid her eyes back to mid-level, casual if not a little skeptical as he spoke, fitting an officer in a coffee shop.  No doubt the two of them were notable to the patrons - she counted many stares around them of the intimidating pair - which made the conversation that much more discomfited.  She had to focus.  This had to be controlled.<br/><br/>"And I you, Father.  I can agree that it has been a while..."<br/><br/>He smiled warmly at her.  Clearly he was not deterred by her admission.  He started again, "At the time, I had not put it together, who you were, but I did recognize the other volk who were with you. You were in the presence of Mademoiselle Devereaux, the French nurse who helps out at the local clinic and three other gentlemen, I believe. Two of them introduced themselves to you as German officers.<br/><br/>"There is something very important, I must tell you about those two Germany officers.  A month ago, I was at a conference. The Hotel Schiffmeister is not far from here. The Fuhrer addressed a crowd of Gestapo agents, Schutzstaffelen as well as other high ranking officers of the  Nationalsozialistische Deutsche Arbeiterpartei. Your friend," the blonde man tilted his head in the direction of the Police Inspector, "Herr Drechsler was there, along with two other gentlemen. The same two men you were with last night."<br/><br/>This time Officer Wojcik's eyes narrowed slightly.  His story was starting to lose it's sense, but more importantly it started to reveal more about<span style="font-style: italic">him</span>despite the revelations he shared of her or the members of her party half a day before or even a few minutes previous.  Intentional or no, he was involving himself.  The information he had on the other two men became more important to her than that of herself and his possible relationship to her or her mother.  She believed his relationship with her Father, but as he continued into that of the<span style="font-style: italic">Fallen</span>she kept her mind open that not all things were exactly as they seemed, and that did not exclude the priest or his words.<br/><br/>"...I need to warn you of them, not because I believe they intend to harm you, but because they will try to challenge your beliefs. I know your heart is with God and our Savior Lord Jesus Christ. Your mind is with our Fuhrer Adolf Hitler. It is good to have something to believe. I will not judge this mortal. He has the best intentions for the people of this great nation. I hope that he can achieve great things. You will need to watch him and his policies with great care. Ask yourself occasionally, if they are in line with the teachings of Jesus Christ. Sure, we are all sinners. Yes, even me. Adolf Hitler is a human and susceptible to his own failings. Keep an eye on him. He is a great man and capable of many great things. But even great men have self-doubt."<br/><br/>Wojcik nodded severely.  It eased her to know that he was not against the Fuhrer, but he did not speak as if he were with the leader, either.  She found herself not full of that peace she'd found at the church, nor was her mind reeling the same confusion as it had then, but she recognized the sensation of disappointment calming all others.  Thoughts were not all settled, but a conclusion was.<br/><br/>She remembered, as she kneeled at her mothers side, the hand of a man on her shoulder.  It was not the parting of the curtains that brightened the room but his presence.  She had not questioned it then, and even now she knew that such an experience was discredited amongst the logic-bound, but there was so much beyond this realm than could be imagined, and men, if he could be called him, like this one did exist.  He calmed her and said the Lord accepted her prayers should she truly mean them and keep them of the Lord.  Nodding her head eagerly at the time had not seemed like such a burden, but it was now one that she carried with her as her strength - and she would not be weak in her task of her Father.<br/><br/>She made comment as he took another sip of his coffee.  "Father Fischer, the cause of mein Fuhrer is that of the Lord, and I follow Him before any man, but should we fail to follow His man<span style="font-style: italic">we will fail Him</span>."  It was not hard-voiced, but it was emphatic enough to get the point across.<br/><br/>He sipped his coffee, unaffected.<br/><br/>"Yvael," he continued, "I know you and your family. You do not know me and you do not know Herr Kohler. Both he and I are not what you would think. I am more like you, than you could possibly know, but we are nothing alike. This morning, the two boys who served mass with me, are my brothers. How is it possible that a 15 and 17 year old could be brothers with a 60 year old man? Maybe because neither of us are 15, 17 or 60. But we are not the<span style="font-style: italic">Fallen</span>as Herr Kohler and his partner, Kai. In fact, if you have ever read Old Testament, there is a passage in the Testament of Solomon which mentions your friend Herr Kohler. His name back then was Asmodeus. Or maybe you are familiar with the Book of Tobit in the Eastern Orthodox church? In that book Asmodeus ran off with one of my brother's daughters, Sarah. You should ask Herr Kohler if he could recount his time with Sarah."<br/><br/>When the waitress came to the table, Yvonne found herself appreciative.  He made lesser sense now, keeping his secrets to himself in this environment but attempting to share via ambiguity.  It did not make for very effectual conversing.  She, too, was patient, however.<br/><br/>The food set before her was something she was completely unprepared for.  Sugar and syrups and sauces splotched across a fluffy pastry - not at all what she would have ordered herself.  This would've been an expensive treat and the indulgences within it made it a creation of something gluttonous and covetous, quite possibly vain.  She refused to sneer in the presence of the helpful waitress and the righteous father, but she couldn't force her stomach to remain silent at the sight of the rich bread, thick flavors, and overwhelming aroma.  The twisting pain suffered somewhere between excitement and disgust.  The time it would take to make her hunger obedient again would agree with the latter.<br/><br/>"Thank you very much," He took that moment to look up at the young woman. "Has anyone ever told you, what beautiful eyes you have? They are the whitest of blue. Very pretty. Very pretty."<br/><br/>Yvonne's brows furrowed.  She looked up at the woman's eyes, catching her attention as they flitted bashfully closed and to every possible direction but at the two them before finally finding the exit from the table.  The blue reminded her of a wispy sky on the cold coast of home, but nothing particularly remarkable about them beyond that, and she wondered for a moment what the point was in stating so except to bother her enough to make her leave.  Maybe he knew the scene she did and equated the color to a work only God could make, and she took comfort in this rationalization.  Still, she had to orient herself when he took up her as his audience once more.<br/><br/>"I don't want to get into who I am specifically. I think you can figure it out. We are related, in a manner of speaking. You can look at me as an uncle. Your father is very close to me. I can help you, if you should require it. As Mademoiselle Devereaux works in Health care, so do I," he added with a wink.<br/><br/>Her head turned slightly.  What had happened to this situation?  His words became all the more nonsensical as she allowed them to keep going.  Maybe he was just a deranged man of his age.  Immediate her senses went out and she took in the warmth and light of his aura, assured that his senility was well intact with immortal "youth" if it could be called that.  She knew very well what he was, yet the experience of these short minutes disturbed her definition or imagery of such things, and she had to reconcile them at another time.  She shook her head slightly gravitating the loose mental objects apart.<br/><br/>Yvonne sighed heavily, almost theatrically.  "That is quite a lot to take in, Father.  Forgive me for hesitating to accept it without consideration; I'm sure you will understand the need to absorb.  I must thank you, immediately, for bringing to light the true position of those officers you spoke of in whose company you found me this evening.  My superiors will be very interested to hear it."<br/><br/>"Be very careful with whom you associate, my dear. I care about you and do not wish to see you harmed."  His gaze was adamant, much more serious than much else of his claims or mannerisms.  She nodded graciously.<br/><br/>"I appreciate your concern, but I have faith that this is the path I am meant to walk."  He took another sip of coffee, eyes on her as he considered her words.  "You know my true name, but my surname provides that I am the Warrior of God and it is my duty to fight, in His name, for His cause, and I am privileged to do so.  This is my calling."<br/><br/>The father's blue eyes regarded her over the top of his mug.  He took his time assessing her, but he didn't much.  Settling the cup down gently, he folded his hands over the top, then looked up at her once more, only a brief pause before saying, "I believe you are right.  It is<span style="font-style: italic">His</span>cause, remember, that you fight for.  That is all I ask."<br/><br/>A smile pulled at her lips, and Yvonne felt the golden glow of peace surround her once more.  She was not sure if it was this...<span style="font-style: italic">man</span>or God opened the sky long enough to share his warmth intentionally upon her in acceptance, or that maybe even she was simply a deranged woman of her own age, but she took it in with pleasure.  Her eyes closed and she inhaled the scent of the coffeehouse, this time with agreement.  Something seemed to fall off, maybe even melt off her shoulders, and she rolled them each twice before settling into her seat more comfortably and starting on her food, the reverend doing the same, in enjoyable silence.<br/><br/>It brought back many memories, some old and some new, but she did not sort through them or examine them with any amount of attention, just general reminiscing.  The blonde officer forgot her station for a moment, washing the stickiness away with cows milk, her body nourished and energized to match her mood now, which had only bloomed with the unfolding of recent events.<br/><br/>"What I know," she told Raphael, "is that my mother was a very holy woman.  She was cursed never to conceive and dedicated herself to the Church.  There she captured the attention of my true Father and that of his servant, the angel sent to bless her with the one thing she could not have otherwise.  It was not immaculate, as some may have graced her with in idle gossip; however, it was a miracle, and I am nothing short of grateful for the opportunity to be a true servant to the Lord where others might not have the capability.  More than this, I do not know."<br/><br/>Both their glasses were filled, and Yvonne thanked the waitress, their eyes meeting briefly.  She saw their beauty now.  It was remarkable.  Skittering away, the daughter of a holy woman turned to her fathers brother and she smiled at him, polite as a guest should be rather than stoic as the officer of an investigation - there was much more time for that with many other, more deserving creatures.  Here she could relax in a presence much closer to God than she had been in a long time.<br/><br/>"I must be going soon, this information is vital to the campaign.  However, I must ask what your part in it, is then.  I met the woman, Isolde," she was a bit surprised at how well she retained the contempt in her voice, "but I do not see that she is of import more than an obstacle to the cause.  Who is she to you, to God?  What do I not yet know that I might need to?"<br/><br/>She was leaning in to the table to keep their tones hushed.  There was enough hanging in the air about them that could have been overheard and<span style="font-style: italic">misconstrued</span>unfavorably.  Specifics like this would only threaten her mission further.  She sent her senses out to the crowd to find most only listening passively or out of entertainment - the ruse of the "good" Father Fischer came in quite handy for circumstances as this - but that did not rule out spies.  Not even her "friend", herr Drechsler.  When she called on him, she would have to ascertain his opinion, if any, as he had not remained for the entirety of their conversation.  Still, there were few witnesses to call on casually.