Just a room. They are alone.

Graeber steps inside, finding it cooler than the rest of the building. He observes the girl while shooting investigative glances around the room. Aside from finding it as average as possible, everything seems normal.

Sofia turns around, drawing all of Graeber’s attention to her for a brief moment. “Just me. And you.” She offers shyly, but Graeber doesn’t relax.

He tells her to open the closet. Dresses.

He tells her to open her dresser. Undergarments and socks.

He then tells her to take everything out from under the bed—empty suitcases.

Graeber takes off his helmet and falls on her bed. The springs protest his weight with squeaks, but they stop as they settle. “What’s wrong?” Sofia asks.

Sofia tries, but Graeber just shakes his head. He’s too tired to say anything. Everything is wrong. He’s forgotten the last time he felt normal. What it felt like to be far away from danger. The stress of war is bearing down on him.

She sits beside him. “You are different.”

The smell of rosemary invades his sense of smell. He looks at the girl as she speaks. “You don’t belong here. You are good.”

Graeber’s face wrinkles. “Where’s Fischer?”

Sofia looks at Graeber, her face exploring his face like Katarzyna used to do. She was searching for something. Graeber then knows that the girl knows something about Fischer, and then she’s merely pretending to be stupid.

“Sofia,” he moves and tilts his head down. His voice is a whisper. “Someone will come back and kill all of you if they don’t find Fischer.”

She swallows, shaking her head slightly. Her untangled hair sways gently against the motions. “They will kill us anyway,” she mumbles. “You will get what you deserve.”

There’s venom in her voice that he’s immune to, but it causes him to look over at the door and then over his shoulder. Sofia grabs Graeber, making him jolt slightly as she says something in Russian. His mind spins, unable to translate one word.

“I haven’t—” Graeber travels off, seeing the tears swell in Sofia’s eyes. He pushes her back and grabs his helmet. “Are we- allein”

Suddenly, Sofia looks frightful. Submissive and weak. Graeber looks at her and feels lust shoot through his body. They stare at each other for a moment regarding the position they’ve found themselves in. “Yes,” she says. “We are alone.”

Her dress has gone up slightly since she’s sat next to him. Painting her into a lewd model for use. Graeber remembers Alicen, the moments of sensual lovemaking and raw fucking, how every time he misses a chance to do it, he might be skipping a chance to go on a short furlough.

Graeber swallows, his cock getting hard. Sofia’s eyes travel to his waist, and she swallows. “What?”