No, but they talk for a long time.

Katarzyna becomes bored as the two German soldiers beside her continue their exchange. It sounds aggressive, and on more than one occasion, she thinks one of them has become mad! That doesn’t seem to be the case, however, because they are soon laughing as they say “Prost!” again.

Eventually, Zimmerman becomes disinterested in the duo and returns to where he came from. More SA men are in the corner of the bar, smoking, drinking, and possibly planning… Katarzyna jumps when Graeber nudges her. Graeber retracts his hand and laughs out an apology. She’s gone pale, and he notices this.

“Isabelle, what’s the matter?”

Katarzyna smiles slightly. He’s playing along…!

“It’s nothing,” she manages. “I think I’m going home now.”

Graeber stirs out his stool. “Let me walk you home. It’s what I owe you.”

Katarzyna makes a twisted face. Having a German follow her home? Displeasurable. Pass. NO. Absolutely NOT going to happen.

She says this in a more friendly manner, but when she steps into the cool air, all she sees are Germans, drunk and stinky with wine. She shoots a glance at Graeber. He’ll have to bodyguard her home. She trusts him enough to do that. “Yes. Walk me home.”

“Thank you, Frau Garnier!”

A laugh boils from Katarzyna’s mouth. She bows slightly in mockery praise. “Donkey shown, Herr Samson.”

Graeber pauses for a moment to look around. The smile straightened instantly, and his eyes were weary. “What?” She asks. “Did I say something?”

“Just call me Graeber,” he pleads.

“Okay?” She says.

Her attempt to lighten the mood is met with a grand failure. The tension between the two is now awkward and unwanted. The stroll through conquered Paris is worse than ever, and now it seems like a personal attack. Katarzyna used to like long for walks on these streets, especially at night when the lights seemed so magical, but now as she walks down the alleyways with the occupation **** so close and her party so quiet, she wishes for nothing more than to be home…

At least no one came to talk to her; that was a good thing, she supposed.

When they finally drew near to where she was staying, Graeber gasped. “This is your house?”

Katarzyna hated this place, so she jabbed a finger at him. “C'est la maison de mon cousin, crétin!” She sighs when she’s done with her outburst. Graeber is an annoying subject, and she wishes not to study him anymore. She can’t tell what’s going through his head right now, but she apologizes anyway.

“Do you want me to stay?” He asks her.