Papers Puppies And Persuasion

Who: Wolff, Dog, Sofia, Christiane, Genevieve
Where: Northern street in Arras
When: Dusk

There is still a couple hours before sunset, when curfew is enforced. Yet in recent nights (ever since a certain event) patrols have been heavier, especially near the edges of town. One such patrol- composing an SS soldier with a rifle carried on one shoulder, and handling a sniffing hound, is moving down the road, looking for anything even remotely amiss.

Genevieve is heading towards the north of town, which is where the Estate is, on the very, very northern edge of the town. It's a good, long walk there or a slightly more bearable horse ride, but she nor Xavier had the horses out today, so she is making the walk. She's in her tuxedo dress, just having come from her last afternoon performance at the cafe. She's got her high heels off, however, in a bag over her shoulder and is wearing a pair of black slip on flats instead. She smokes a cigarette as she goes, trying to keep quiet and to herself.

Christiane comes walking down the streets, headed away from the direction of the church and back toward her home. Her handbag is clutched close at her side and she does her best to keep her eyes straight ahead, as if refusing to acknowledge the patrols.

Speaking of SS, Sofia is like the lingering fog on a cold morning. Pretty, in a cold, cold, stark way. She has her black bag at her side, looking dark and silent. Her green eyes are narrowed, giving her a sharp, intelligent look. She doesn't seem too worried about the patrols, having finally finished her chores. She does pause, to people watch a moment. "Hm." She grunts softly.

Wolff lets out a short breath of boredom as his hound tugs at the leash. A moment's piqued interest from the soldier at the possibility of something of note- but disappointed once the hound is discovered to be sniffing at a bit of rotting apple-core in the gutter. A sight of more interest catches his eye as Genevieve is making her way out of town. Stopping his walk, and tugging back on the dog's leash, he gives a low command in german to the canine, before addressing the woman with the word, "Fraulein," Shifting to french to offer, "Where are you going tonight?"

Doggie the Second perks his ears up at the passing Christiane, toward whom he strains against the leash, huffing at the Madame Morgenstern.

Genevieve hesitates a few moments, keeping her black lined eyes low and a touch humble. She was tipsy, but not quite so drunk as to be outlandish tonight. "To my home." She admits simply, keeping most of the hard edge out of her voice though there is just that slight, slight hint of sarcasm and resentment that alcohol lends all too freely to her voice. It lets emotions flow too easy.

Christiane finds the dog difficult to ignore. She pauses as she passes it, her posture stiffening. She tries not to stare at it, resisting the urge to shoo the thing away. Sofia is spotted, and eyed, but the frauline isn't her main concern just now. Her gaze has fallen on Genevieve and Wolff.

Even Sofia seems a little wary of the dogs. But she might just be a cat person or aware of what the puppies can do. She smiles politely, almost … coldly still, at Christiane. She too, turns to watch the soldier, dog and woman.

Dog2 yips deep in its canine throat as Christiane pauses near. The doig is a strong animal, and its efforts are enough to haul Wolff a short step closer to the Belgian woman.

Wolff laughs quietly under his breath, stating to Genevieve, "No doubt, fraulein. And how far is home tonight?" He regards the frenchwoman's attire with a look up and down before prompting, "Your papers, please." The dog's pull draws his eye aside, to note Christiane.

Genevieve reaches into her back pocket, pulling out her papers. They are in order for her being Genevieve d'Este, though she's wearing a ring now. She hands them over to the man. "The winery on the edge of town. It is a good walk, but I was on my way." She speaks around her cigarette, though pulls it from her lips and ashes to the side once her papers are handed over.

Christiane offers Wolff a stiff nod but she edges away from him. And his beast. This momentarily draws her in Sofia's direction. The SS medical provides a better distraction than the vicious dog. "Doctor Weir." The greeting is polite, if cool, as is habitual with Chrisa's dealings with the Nazis. "What brings you out at this hour?"

A quirked eyebrow. Well, if she's a distraction, so be it. Sofia just nods, and smiles politely. "Hello there, Madame." She's polite, if distant. "I have finally finished my work," At least poor Sofia seems to bear the brunt of the medical paperwork. She shifts her weight, glancing between Christiane and the dog, mostly on Christiane. "How about you?"
Dog2 grants Christiane a respite from his attentions in order to sniff intently at Sofia, two low ruffs as he strains anew toward the lady. Something of the woman has the hound's intent scrutiny.

Wolff eyes Christiane for a moment as he hauls back on the dog's leash. A short instruction in german to the animal, whose short withdrawal and speech to Sofia is enough to give him an excuse to look away from her. Sofia is met with a nod and proper word of greeting, before he looks back to sling the rifle over his shoulder and free the hand to accept the papers. "The winery on the edge of town? Is there good drink there?" he asks while looking over the papers. "What is your business in town, fraulein? Do you always walk around dressed like that?" Peeved mildly at the dog's continued distraction, he repeats the earlier word in german to the canine.

"I worked the early shift this morning," Christiane replies to Sofia. "I stopped at the church after I left. Something I wanted to do before going home tonight." She quiets after that, eyeing Genevieve with faint concern.

Genevieve's jaw momentarily tightens as the questioning furthers, but she takes in a deep breath of her cigaette and keeps cool. Thank goodness she didn't drink her usual amount this time, "I entertain at the cafe. Songs, you know. I just finished performing. And yes… I think the drink is most excellent." She admits, a brush of amusement crossing her lips as she says that. "In fact, I could use one of those drinks now." She smiles to him. Maybe she can get him to smile back.

"I see, how nice," Sofia replies coolly. She smiles politely to Wollf, nodding her head. "Herr." She looks back to Genevieve, lifting an eyebrow at the questioning. She watches the dog, tilting her head. She peers at it, evenly. Sofia is assuming her role of ominous Nazi in the background. She's distancing herself.

Wolff half smiles in return to Genevieve, before the dog's unrelenting pull drags his attention away. In crisp german, he addresses the Frau-Doktor, "He must smell the hospital on you. We've been using the Englishman's blood as the spoor for the hounds. Apologies," he offers hauling back harder on the leash to pull the dog a pace back from Sofia and Christiane. Another short look over the Belgian matron, before he returns his stare to Genevieve, offering her papers back. "You have a performer's license, fraulein?" he asks, again in french.

Christiane nods to Sofia, just as coolly. "It was quite nice, yes. It puts things in perspective, being in the church." She also stays in the background. Perhaps lending Genevieve an un-ominous presence. Her eyes widen a touch at the dog. English blood, eh? That's ominous enough.

Genevieve's casually flirtatious smile falls away at the comment of the Englishman's blood being used. It wasn't something she ever wanted to think about, in truth. And then those red painted lips turn into a full frown as she stares flatly at Wolff, "I have never heard of a performers license, sir, and there have been performers in my family for generations now." Her voice has just an edge of a challenge to it, but she's trying to restrain. She will not allow herself to look caught off guard.

Sofia blushes, squinting a bit. Stinky huh? Eh heh heh. She looks sheepish. Sofia just smiles and nods, "Apologies herr." She steps back just a little. "Mmm," Sofia's only reply to Christiane. Her eyes widen, at the mention of a Performer's License. She looks slightly puzzled, setting her free hand on her hip.

Dog2 huffs at Sofia once more before accepting his handler's command and pull, to walk away from Christiane and Sofia, sniffing at the street once again, before settling its hind quarters down for a seat in the street, near Wolff's feet.

Wolff hasn't lost his half smile throughout the discussion of blood or performing and he doesn't lose it now, as he regards Genevieve afresh to answer, "Your family has not performed under the Reich before, fraulein. Performing without a license is the same as public speaking without permission. Could arrest you for sedition easily enough, but I'd rather have a bottle or two of that wine you were talking about. Do you think that can be managed?"

Genevieve tilts her head a touch to the side, a considering, cool smile upon her lips, "I think it could be arranged… If you could arrange a performance license for me? I would hate to be arrested by an officer not nearly so… Understanding, or fond of wine. Then I could not provide you with any more bottles in the future."

Christiane's lips settle into a thin frown as she watches the interplay between Wolff and Genevieve. "Of course…" she mutters to herself. But that's the extent of her commentary for now.

Sofia wouldn't mind bribes herself, but she says nothing! The woman just … keeps her eyebrows lifted. Not terribly amused. "Hm." She grunts softly and eyes the dog a moment. Noooo puppy. It's kind of cute when not barking at you. She just kind of watches Wolff now.

Dog2 remains sitting, until his handler directs him to resume moving, tongue lolling out with panting breaths as the animal looks about the darkening street, settling its eyes again on the two women who keep apart.

Wolff replies to the performer, "That can be managed, fraulein," with a briefly deepened smile. "Will you be passing this way again tomorrow, then?"

Genevieve bows her head quietly towards Wolff, "Indeed. Shall I make certain to have some wine for my walk tomorrow night?" She inquires smoothly, actually a bit more relaxed now. She's, seemingly, enjoying the game.

Christiane lingers, though from the way she positions her body and clutches her handbag she intends to be off soon. She's still frowning.

Sofia watches the dog and mostly … well, watches. Her green eyes narrow. "Farewell, Christiane," Sofia smiles coolly at the Belgian woman, perhaps aware of her intent to leave. Sofia herself is in much less of a hurry.

Wolff nods his head, with the distinctive german helmet and it's cloth band bearing the stitched motto, "Make certain, fraulein, yes. Before you run into a less understanding soldier." A short chuckle, "You know any german songs?" The discussion is cut off at a little sound from his dog, which returns his eye to the other two. The pleased expression is wiped away into a more professional countenance. "Good evening, fraulein," he notes in dismissal to Genevieve, before prompting Christiane, "Your papers, and destination, frau?"

Genevieve smiles a bit warmer to the German, "Come to the Cafe Mason and perhaps you will see." With that, she turns upon the ball of her foot and does indeed continue on her way. No reason not to play nice to their faces. Hell, it kept one alive rather longer. She does hesitate, though, as she sees him questioning Christiane. On her way, Gene nods towards Sofia once.

"Good evening, Doctor Weir." With that, Christiane is almost gone. Almost, but not quite. She stops amicably enough for Wolff, fishing into her handbag. A vague hint of annoyance crinkles her expression but it's not as if she wasn't expecting this. She hands over her papers. "My destination is my home, Private. I am just returning from church."

A slight nod back to Genevieve. The woman is keeping herself guarded, all too aware of the masks and dances they perform. She seems to be getting used to it, even if it's oh so lonely. She just seems amused by Wolff and Genevieve. Cute… Or something like that.

Wolff nods once, accepting and giving the papers a cursory look-over. The german doesn't search very long for anything amiss, before nodding his helmeted head and returning the papers. "Very well. Good evening, frau Morgenstern." He may not have even looked past the name.

Christiane retrieves her papers and manages a clipped "Good evening" to Wolff before marching away. She tries to keep her bearing proud as she goes but her shoulders sag noticeably.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 License.