No. Graeber returns to the real world.

Graeber returns to his senses and steps out of the restroom. He blinks, feeling much more energized than he did before. After interacting with Alicen, Graeber typically felt the opposite. When he returned to Friedrich, there was pint of beer waiting for him. Friedrich seemed to be in a better mood now, too.

“It isn’t as good as the German brands, but it's good enough,” Friedrich laughs.

Graeber smiles and eyes the glass. He grabs it and lifts it. “Good enough!”

The two drank for a while, talking about nonsense, and then eventually, the course of the war and how well the German war machine was still operating. Graeber had partaken of the drinks more than he intended and found himself more **** than was allowed. Friedrich either didn’t care or was getting too worked up about it himself. Despite the two men’s growing drunkenness, Friedrich kept his voice low.

“We ought to be playing it defensively now, not looking for the initiative,” he whispered, the German harsh as it left his tongue. “I don’t think we have enough men to fill in the gaps and provide the edge we need. This next offensive, Graeber… I don’t think it.”

Graeber took a swallow from the pint, emptying it within just a few seconds. Then he nodded to himself, shrugging. Not yet ready to forgo the technical edge of Germany. “We have those new tanks, don’t we? Have you seen those new machine pistols, too?” Even to his drunken self, Graeber didn’t quite believe his words.

Friedrich rolled his eyes, dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand. He looks around the room and curses inaudibly under his breath, tired of the scenery, just as he was with the country of Russia and the constant backpaddling. “Tell me about your French girl, Herr Graeber. How is she?”

The letters in his breast pocket burned suddenly like they were spent brass. The letters weren’t marked with a false alias. “Oh, Isabella?” He laughs, hiding the comfort with a slightly intoxicated smile. “She’s fine. She’s… a nurse now, though. Germany probably needs her because of those bombs, right?”

Friedrich shrugs it off, his mouth in a comically deep frown as he considers this. Graeber, at a glance, knows Friedrich knows more about the subject matter. Likely explaining his negative output on the current situation of the war. However, he knows his place and refrains from asking about these things. Friedrich didn’t seem keen on talking about it anyway.

“How does she enjoy it? Being a nurse?” Friedrich asks, and Graeber just now notices the ring on his finger —a bright, contrasting gold color against the uniform and his skin. Lukas comes to mind. And then Emil, for some reason… Schneider… all the faces lost in Stalingrad.

It’s an effort with the gentle buzz of beer behind his eyes, but when he does, he smiles. “She says she’s meeting a lot of fun people,” he muses. “And she gets to stay in France, and she’s happy about that.”

Friedrich smiles. “I’m sorry she has to continue protecting France. I hope I don’t live to see the day we have to defend Germany proper. Hopefully, whatever the generals do will prevent enemy blood from spilling on our Fatherland, ay Graeber?”

Graeber nods, the concept alone making his feet and hands feel cold. Surely, it wouldn’t get that bad. The Russians couldn’t set foot there… “Can I ask how bad things are?”

“How good they are, you mean?” Friedrich smirks, but frowns… This time, not so comical. He’s looking at the counter, replaying losses and lost faces, too. There wasn’t a man, woman, or child a virgin to pain now. For a moment, they were the same. “You shouldn’t burden yourself with numbers and statistics as much as I do. You seem smart, Graeber. You know the answer, I believe. Don’t go searching for confirmation.”

Graber looked around the room. There were other soldiers nearby. Officers and civilians alike. He tapped his fingers on the counter and rubbed the pads of his index fingers along the condensation of the glass. “Es tut mir leid, mein Fuhrer.”

Friedrich snorts, nodding silently. “It’s about time you took a turn watching over our prisoners, is it not?”

“Ja,” Graeber’s head bobs like a toy, the constant motion giving him a slight ache. “May I be excused then?”

“Dust bist,” Friedrich stands up, and Graeber does the same, the formalities less than they were. The drink in their systems condenses the strictness to a point of null. “Drive me back to the headquarters, and from there, you are relieved of my services.”

…

…

Fog seeps in, and with it, an unnaturally cold pinch joins it. Adam is nearby, silent and watching the ghostly wisps and concealment tuck behind bushes and in the trees. Graeber has snuffed out his cigarette as the first lines of mist crept out from the treeline. Unease and uncertainty swept across both soldiers as chatter and conversation came.

“Well,” Graeber whispers, angling his head towards Adam. “Does it get his bad every night?”

“It’s the rain,” Adam whispers back. “It’s been bad every night, but it doesn’t feel so lonely this time.”

“I feel it,” Graeber whispers back, eyes flicking to the shack’s door and then the treeline. “The raids… how have they been against the partisans?”

Adam doesn’t answer for a long time, he just listens to the silence of the world as the fog moves out from the treeline and towards their boots. Then he swallows. “I can’t believe there are still more, Graeber. We’ve killed so many… But they keep coming, just like the Russians…”

Graeber grabs his rifle and checks the chamber. “Go into town and get some more soldiers.”

“Alone? You’re crazy, you know what they do to soldiers if they get them alive? We should both go.”

“I’m not scared to be here alone, Adam. If you run, you get there in 15 seconds and we’ll have the whole garrison stir up. Better than sorry, yes?” Graeber’s eyes are busy, looking at the treeline and the door to the shack. “Hurry up.”

Adam looks ****. He looks at Graeber and then the outline of the nameless town they are held up in. “Perhaps there is nothing.”

“I’ve fought long enough to know where there is nothing. If you don’t go, then I will. Is that what you want?”

“Nein,” Adam hisses, looking back at the town, but then he pauses again…