The woman sauntered up beside the man at the door, paying him no mind as she filled the space with her figure and without regret.  Something itched at her, hairs standing on end.  She paid it and the man next to her no mind as the two she'd met earlier stepped closer to them and the opening doorway.  Yvonne's blushing lips parted wide as the plane of wood shifted to reveal a woman with red curls falling in a bundle behind her shoulders, confusion on her gentle, pale face.  Recognition crossed it then.  Not for Yvonne, but for the others, which only made the standing hairs curl with wariness.<br/><br/>“Please, come in from that cold stairway. I was about to have tea. Would any of you care for some?"  The healer, Isolde Devereaux offered, turning her back to the company with enviable comfort<br/><br/>"Nein, Fraulein Devereaux.  Thank you, though.  I am Officer Wójcik, but you may call me Yvonne."  The blonde woman took the hand of the brighter-haired one in both of her own, her eyes shining as she stared at their host.  Entering the room alit another strange sensation.<br/><br/>She was distracted from this by a rogue bead of paint that squeezed between her quickly, but gently, retreating fingers.  Isolde did not indicate if she noticed the other woman's reaction to the stain as she greeted the men.  "Erlind," she said, "it is good to see you again. I see you are faring well. And Sir Advocate, forgive me if your name escapes me, it is a pleasure to see you again as well.  To what may I attribute this visit? I’m quite sure this is not a typical social call.”<br/><br/>Again, the familiarity of those in the room briskly caught her attention.  Yvonne made herself carefully aware of the conversation as it progressed, noting any more nuance responses between the members of this odd group.  Still, she smiled at the hostess with warmth and grace.  Isolde closed the door behind the man-with-no-name and made her way to an open seat, indicating her guests should do the same.  Her posture was erect as she past<span style="font-style: italic">Erlind</span>Kohler - interesting.<br/><br/>The<span style="font-style: italic">Oberstleutnant</span>looked uncommonly at ease.  Confidence to the point of boredom reigned his own posture as he lounged in a chair that should have been stripped of it's cushions weeks ago for paraphernalia and weapons in the house of a Jew.  Granted, Frau Devereaux didn't have the typical features of the misguided, and she was useful.  The - Advocate, had she called him? - looked equally comfortable with a glass of tea to occupy himself as the gentleman allowed the others to sit before him.  They were both lying.  The Italian man looked far more serious as he kept his eyes on the not-quite-yet informant, flickering toward her and the Advocate in his periphery.  He trusted Kohler, at least.  He cleared his throat and his partner sat up fluidly.  More interesting.<br/><br/>"These officers are here to<span style="font-style: italic">interview</span>you," she began, "on the status of the clinic at which you work. I sent a young man to bring you goods for your patients and supplies for your colleagues, I assume they reached you well?"  Yvonne carefully plucked her fingers out of the remaining glove, eyes busy with the task.  "I am simply her as an observer.  Your husband would be peaceable with the knowledge that an escort was made available to you amongst a number of men at such an indecent hour, I'm sure."  Her chin lifted with that signature smile that marked half her face, reflecting the light as if a recently polished china.  She looked directly at the woman allegedly in her care, but the remark was undoubtedly intended for the others.  This was how one maintained civility.