The music drifted through the entrance with little resistance from the glass doorways reflective of French architecture.  A pair of doorman opened the way for her, indicating the sort of occasion this was clear to be, and the other patrons around her gave it confirmation.  Beautiful men and women in pairs.  Dresses of luxury and suits of repute.  Large smiles and boasting laughter.  It was a social gathering with which was expected the joviality of laughter and the distraction from war, likely intended for the celebration of ego and lubrication of funds.  It gave the blonde officer a distinct image of sin and lascivious temptation for the sake of the vain.  These were waters in which the warrior knew how to walk.<br/><br/>Yvonne smiled to her ephemeral companions, nodding once so her eyes fell on the staircase as she walked up them, heels careful on the velveteen carpet matching them.  She was without a partner of her own, but it wasn't without choice.  Just entering the building she was offered escort, which she politely declined, using the man she was to meet as excuse; she only hoped he was waiting inside like she claimed, or be forced to dance sooner than later.  It was something of suspect, but she handled herself with enough humility, full lashes fluttering low, so as not to insult such honorable men.  Disgusting pigs.<br/><br/>The soft path led inside and cut the room directly in half, tables branching out from the rounded stage as its juxtaposed second half so the dance floor was immediately upon you.  Luckily it was early enough that the capacity lingered toward the walls and libations.  Unaware to the woman herself, the angel hybrid walked in with the confidence of someone unburdened by a concept of value based on beauty or money or status.  It wasn't that she lacked any of these qualities, nor disregarded them, she simply belonged of her own accord. Confidence on its own behalf, without consideration to other expectation.<br/><br/>She saw the man almost directly across for the entryway and made her way to him, directing polite smiles to the sparse crowd as it filled behind her, sublimating her entrance into something illusory, a filmy memory in the night to be forgotten like the rest.  It was easy enough to do, and easier still to desire.  The woman wanted little to be there, so she would be as non-existant as her physical presence allowed her.  Looking up toward her affiliate, she realized it might be a little more impossible than most excursions she made of the sort, mostly because one was only there on the expectation of the other, but also from the expression of his taking her in.  She felt a slight heat rise at her jawline and threaten to burn her cheeks, but she withheld it and rethought her instinct for the circumstance, but it was too late, and she was, indeed, here with him for business.<br/><br/>"Good evening, Frau Wójcik!" He said with the excitement of the eve, and she raised her hand in greeting, but he gave her a short nod and immediately turned his eyes away toward a table.  She retracted her hand uncomfortably, his reaction unseasonably cool in comparison to the room, but he stood close and she suspected it was really his way of taking control in such a situation.  The officer was not one to have it, so she stepped into his gesture with a glide away from him, expecting him to compel her with a hand at her back like any other man in such an environment.  However, he was already walking by her, and she dipped her head to follow like some infatuated young-thing, following after the man as if a puppy on his heels, assuring on-lookers of anything other than the business they had in mind.  Hopefully that was the reason for his manner.<br/><br/>He lead her past the centerpieces of view and toward the darker corners of the room.  Ideal.<br/><br/>Luciano answered her thoughts without compulsion.  "How is your evening so far, Frau Wójcik? I have taken the necessary arrangements to reserve our very own private booth, in the VIP lounge. I hope it is to your liking tonight." The hostess was bathed in faint blue and purple light, escorting them through the dim-lit environment of the Cabaret, past the bar, and towards one of the secluded large booths, elevated above the main ground. The booth was room-width, close enough for a clear view of the musicians or dancers, but far away enough from the crowded floors, which was exactly to her liking - especially the privacy doors. However, the candles and shotglasses were unexpected.<br/><br/>She eyed them warily until the man turned to offer her seat.  Smiling graciously, Yvonne slid into the space and continued along until she gave him room to follow, but not stopping until it was apparent she had no interest in canoodling with him and preferred the ability to look into his eyes.  Gateways to the soul, the angel knew it was key to discussions requiring truth.  Often, she avoided them, needing a simple glimpse to understand most of her companions, but never forgetting the shadows she did take with her when she did.  Chances were she'd use the performers as her focal point, or the reflection in the shining metal of the candelabra.  With both comfortable, short orders made dismissing the hostess, she finally answered the man.<br/><br/>"My evening..." she started, thinking over the messy business preceding her appearance, "was as to be expected.  Generally, then, well.  Yours, sir?"  Her smile indicated sincere inquiry.  Pleasantries were never unwelcome, she simply deflected via other means and rarely had any sort of need of them versus the time available to her.  The last time she'd sat down with someone individually under casual preconceptions was with the father, Raphael, who enjoyed his pleasantries thoroughly, but she had been anxious to know he was who she suspected.  It was the first time she'd met another angel.  Sometimes she was even fallible with eagerness and emotion.<br/><br/>Now, she looked into the face of a man she knew to be dead, and the officer noted she would need more foci.  Discomfort straightened her spine for just a moment before she gave the topic change, raising her brows and laughing once, honestly with nervousness she choose not to restrain, "I love the Musette jazz, but you'll have to excuse me for saying so, this is not my<span style="font-style: italic">"scene"</span>, I don't swing," or make conversation, it seemed.  She rested her cheek on her hand, the other playing with the small glass she had no intention of taking.  "So, yes, this booth is very much to my liking.  Honestly, I wasn't sure I should even show, and it looks to me as if I under-dressed," she gestured at the mans suit and shared her glance with the rest of the room as inclusion.  She was just making small-chat, but if he made any remark she would have blushed.<br/><br/>"My youth was spent in the church, so studies of the Word filled my days, rarely music other than chants and hymns.  It is quite refreshing to hear such beauty in a world of war.  I am glad I made it, no matter what business to which we must attend."  Her olive eyes met his dark ones with a gentle intensity, somehow trying convey the mixed feelings she had on the subject.  Whether he understood or not would remain with him, but she could only hope it would not be construed unfavorably or that he would miss the implication that he did not need to speak of his brother were he not ready, after all, she was not sure she was either.