<span style="font-style: italic">“Both you and Frau Wojcik have mentioned goods, food, supplies being sent to the clinic. I have no knowledge of this nor of any orders sent out. On occasion, if I am given coins, I might have some fresh bread sent around but other than that, I’m in the dark on these supplies of which you speak. However, Erlind, if you have arranged for this, thank you.”</span>Isolde said.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“I have not arranged anything for your clinic.”</span>Erlind responded and remained seated quietly in the chair, with an elbow on the arm of the chair and a hand touching the side of his jaw. His eyes would drift every now and then to Kai, and then to the Italian comrade, Fabiano. This one looked like he was ready to strike. As Isolde continued to free herself from any accusations of treason that were aimed towards her with the attempt to force her to plead guilty, it only made the Italian Officer the more impatient, the more vexed. Erlind could feel something else in the heart of the young man: Fear. Fear of imperfection. Fear of being unsuccessful. A substance that nagged at him, making him feel unproductive in his mission.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Ask what you will, but unless I am under arrest, do not lay your hands on me.”</span>Her intent was clear as she held the Italian's eyes with her stare. Fabiano got up from the seat slowly and eyed Erlind, tensed. He touched something wet against his lips only to find his nose bleeding. He swiftly reached out for his handkerchief. Erlind noted that not only fear had found a habitat in the brain to the point of making his nose bleed, but the overwhelming presence of the supernatural energy in the room was also at fault.<br/><br/>The Demon did not enjoy stalking people's minds but in certain occasions, he would - for his own benefit of course before others. Fabiano was not going to give up any time soon. He did not trust Isolde one bit. He was planning to pay her a visit at the clinic, and this time with more men than one. Erlind read that in his mind but he admired the man's loyalty to the Fatherland. The mortal may have found birth in Italy, but he grew up as a true German and in the heart of a small Italian community. Today he would only swear by one name: Adolph Hitler. Legitimate thinking.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“If this is all, I worked a double shift today and the night grows late. Perhaps, it is time for you to go?”</span>She looked straight at Erlind and didn’t care that the disappointment at his betrayal shone in her blue eyes.<br/><br/>Erlind held Isolde's eyes. Eyes that mirrored his. The only difference was that hers were warm enough to make his icy-cold ones melt. But melting them would turn his eyes into nothing else but complete blackness once the veil has exhibited reality. Bitter yet sweet. His exorbitant reality was somewhere between the two.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Fair enough. Gute Nacht!”</span>Erlind responded in smooth arrogance, getting up from the seat. Her words and behavior hit him square in the chest with full force, but it was different now. Now he could take the damage, small or big. It did not matter anymore.  He looked over at Yvonne as she spoke to Isolde.<span style="font-style: italic">“Well, I believe the night blossomed long before our arrival and it is the dawn that grows early now. Thank you for your patience. It is clear in your hospitality that your charges are you primary concern, not the politics involving them. It extends even to the well resting of those who would interrupt your own! Who could so judge you of such actions?"</span>She shifted her eyes to Erlind who placed his hat back on his head.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“My chauffeur shall give you a ride safely back to your quarters, or home, if you need one, Officer Wójcik. As for you, Herr Axel Jaeger, I heard that there is a nice bar around this ... this shitty hole of a place. Should you or Officer Axel Jaeger need a drink or two, you know where to find me.”</span>It was not an invitation. It was something only Kai would understand, and this Devil was good with words. Something was not right about Yvonne.<br/><br/>He glanced at Isolde, excused himself from the two others, and turned around to leave; Fabiano falling into step beside him, frowning and grumbling.<br/><br/><br/>_____________________________________________________________<br/><br/><br/>Turning around the corner of a dark street, Erlind stopped short and Fabiano stepped to the side. He glared at the Italian-born Officer and rubbed the back of his neck making a few nervous steps back and forth. The Demon paused in front of the other and said,<span style="font-style: italic">“It was past midnight. You have just finished attending to your evening watch. You wanted a drink. You ended up consuming more than you could count. Must have fallen unconscious in the street. You were not on this mission.”</span>Fabiano looked confused, puzzled, eyes growing wide. Erlind placed a hand on the man's right shoulder and continued,<span style="font-style: italic"> “Uhm... In fact, you will forget that you have assigned yourself for this operation. You will remember nothing of the clinic, nothing of Isolde Devereaux... You're a good man.”</span>The Demon's hand cradled hard the back of Fabiano's neck and the man was slammed against a large brick wall, meeting the collision like a long lost lover. The unnatural force of the impact rendered the Offcier unconscious. As for the driver, Erlind did not have to worry about him revealing anything of the incident. He was one of his. Yvonne on the other hand, was an obstacle big enough to make him want to get rid of her once and for all, but something about her made him think differently, for now. He wouldn't want to deny Kai the pleasure of torturing just another good soul.<br/><br/>The whole situation was too absurd, too all-encompassing. He thought he could handle the situation the moment Fabiano pronounced<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic">her</span> </span>name. He thought he could handle himself in the Witch's presence. He hoped that he didn't have to see her anytime soon. He knew that meeting her though was unavoidable. Darcy was still out there, and alive.<span style="font-style: italic">“Hurensohn!”</span>He cursed under his breath as he made his way to the only bar in the area which was located right next to a small coffee shop that served various forms of warm drinks in late evenings. The bar was old-looking, built in 1921 but had a good reputation in the city and usually full of regulars except for that night. He did not feel or notice the Archangel's presence in the coffee shop next-door. There was no way he could know. Raphael concealed himself well when he wanted.<br/><br/>Eyes unfocused, Erlind starred off into the distance after finding an empty spot in a seat next to the large glass wall of the window. Things did not bend to his will so easily despite planning ahead of time how to avoid such circumstances. He forced himself to drink his bottle of Gin, one shot after the other. It was tasteless after all, dry, but not that it mattered. He forced himself to find the sense of taste that he had lost. He inhaled sharply, running a hand through short golden locks of hair.<br/><br/>That sucker punch.<br/><br/>Absent eyes burned into the condensation on the window, unconsciously staring at the Christmas tree that decorated the exterior of the pub's entrance. Erlind sat his fourth shot down on the glass table and got up, taking his bottle with him to<a class="postlink" href="http://oi57.tinypic.com/ax0lzl.jpg">the basement area</a>that was reserved for people willing to pay more for a little bit of tranquility alone, or with the company of others. He dropped his coat and hat to the side and lowered his body to a large couch. He nervously held a cigarette to his lips while<a class="postlink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gD9mCkhFb8&amp;list=PLHIml6RxHJ62ZNZn3yeilEr8eeenzn4j9">Annette Hanshaw - Wasting My Love on You</a>played in the background.