InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Ridiculously romantic."

Lucy Thatcher (paperlucy) wrote in vie_en_guerre,
@ 2008-01-20 15:30:00

Who: Lucy Thatcher.
When: Evening, December 1940.
Where: Le Passant
Rating: PG
Status: Open and incomplete -- anybody feel welcome to just jump right in!
Summary: Lucy is going over some of her notes with a drink. She would appreciate some company.

Lucy knew that she was supposed to be following the rules of the Vichy government while she was on assignment in Paris. She knew that she was supposed to keep her nose clean, get her stories and send them back to the Times headquarters in London, stay out of trouble, and live a quiet life in the small room she rented out while she was there. Basically, Lucy was supposed to live like a nun. After wiring her latest article to her editor and assuring him that she was going straight back to her room, the blonde had instead made a beeline for Le Passant, looking forward to the glass of scotch she planned on ordering. Now, sitting at a small table in a shadowy corner, Lucy sat in thought, tapping her glass with one finger and smoking a cigarette. Her notebook was on the table in front of her, but she had yet to open it. Her mind was on other things.

Le Passant had really grown on Lucy. She liked the atmosphere of the place. It seemed to be the only establishment in Paris where the only reminders of war were the German officers in uniform, a few of them sporting the red-banded Swastika that had become such a common sight. The proprietor and bartender was a lovely-looking woman who made Lucy feel welcome and was always willing to talk to her (a lot of Parisians were not so quick to speak with a British reporter, fearing what could happen to their friends or family if they were caught).

She took another sip of her drink, enjoying the good burn as it slid down her throat. Lucy’s thoughts drifted to James. It had been a few weeks since she had heard any word from him and, even though she wrote him constantly, she didn’t usually bank on him responding. Mostly Lucy heard news from her parents, both of which were back in England and wished that she would come home. Though things weren’t much better there, either. The Germans had begun an attack on the British mainland over the summer and were periodically bombing and attacking. Last she knew, James was somewhere in Mediterranean Basin. Lucy knocked back the rest of her scotch and took a long drag on her cigarette before flipping open the worn cover of her small reporter's notebook. It was filled with notes she had hurriedly scribbled while standing or walking. Deciphering them was going to be interesting.

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wolfwork
2008-01-21 01:10 am UTC (link)

[[ooc: *shakes fist at formatting*]]

Friedrich shoved the door to the Passant out of his way, glowering at it irritably as he gathered his woolen, fur-lined jacket tighter around him, door clicking shut. It was cold out there, and skin was such a poor covering.

He wasn't in uniform, not this time, but the armband was still there; a reminder that he couldn't act on his own, couldn't do anything about this....place without orders, which he did not have.

The whole place smelled of humans and smoke; he slid a cigarette from his own crumpled pack, rolling it between his fingers, weighing the pros and cons. Pro: More mellow Con: Nose pain...

...Which he was already getting from the smoke, yeah? He stuck the cig in his mouth, then patted his pockets down as he headed for the corner. No lighter.

Figures.

...and the corner was taken by a woman with a notebook, an empty - he sniffed, slightly, checking - scotch glass and - most importantly - a cigarette. He moved to her table, rapping his knuckles on the tabletop. "You have a lighter," He asked, in accented French, "That I might use?"

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paperlucy
2008-01-21 10:21 pm UTC (link)

Lucy looked up, slightly startled. She had vaguely heard someone enter the place but, absorbed in her notes, had not noticed that anyone was standing so close to her. Before her stood a tall, lanky man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Ah," she said, reaching into her coat pocket. "Right 'ere." She pulled out a slightly tarnished silver Zippo lighter and flicked the thumb-wheel before holding the flame up to light his cigarette.

She studied him for a moment, trying to decide if she recognized him or not. Had she interviewed him before? Lucy couldn't remember, but it was worth a shot to try now. "Would you like a seat?" she asked in clumsy French. It had never been her strongest suit in school and it had been ages since she had needed to use it. She thought briefly about getting another drink; it would help her feel more relaxed at any rate. "I'm Lucy. Um.. parlez-vous anglais?"

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wolfwork
2008-01-22 12:18 am UTC (link)

English. Interesting.

He hadn't planned to take a seat, but now, between the notebook and the question, he was curious. He nodded, curtly, and pulled the chair out, sprawling.

"Ja." He hadn't spoken English in years now; he'd picked up a little in college, but the increasing crackdown on foreigners in Berlin had left it unneeded. "I speak a little." His accent was even thicker than in French, but ah well. "I am Köhler."

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paperlucy
2008-01-22 02:23 am UTC (link)

Lucy was slightly surprised when he sat, and even more surprised when he replied in a thick German accent. She could use a German point of view -- her editors had been asking her to try and speak with some of them. Although, she wasn't sure how to go about the whole thing. If Lucy let on she was a reporter, Köhler might not want to talk with her. But she couldn't imagine that a stranger -- a German stranger -- would take kindly to prodding questions from a British woman, either.

The blond leaned back in her chair, looking at her new companion through the shadowy smoke. She closed her notebook, thinking that if she started scribbling down what he wrote, the man might become a little wary. "What brings you to Paris?" Lucy decided this was somewhat of a safe question to start.

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wolfwork
2008-01-22 03:59 am UTC (link)

Friedrich sucked on his cigarette, careful not to inhale the smoke through his nose. He noted that she had closed her book before asking the question. He shrugged, fluidly, leaning against the back of the chair, watching her...but listening more to those around him.

"Same things that bring everyone to this city in these times." He exhaled a fresh stream of smoke, tilting his head back to avoid inhaling it again. "Work. The war. Both, perhaps, depending on your views..."

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paperlucy
2008-01-22 02:32 pm UTC (link)

If she had been younger, less experienced reporter, Lucy might have blurted out: "Are you a Nazi?" But thankfully our heroine was neither very young nor inexperienced. "I suppose hardly anyone will answer that question by saying they're on holiday," Lucy ventured, trying to make a joke but realizing how pathetic it sounded. Not that she really cared; she wasn't here to impress people, she was here to work.

"But 'ere we have something in common," she continued. "Work. And war." She fiddled with the empty glass on the table, picking at the edges of the white napkin on which it sat but all the while keeping her eyes on the man across from her.

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	wolfwork 2008-01-23 03:34 am UTC (link)
	Friedrich kept his eyes on hers, watching her face. "I suppose we have," He answered, carefully, setting his cigarette in the ashtray at the center of the table. He scooted his chair closer to the table before leaning back again, folding his hands. "I would imagine, Fraulein, that that is really all that we do have in common." (Reply to this) (Parent) (Thread)

paperlucy
2008-01-23 03:45 am UTC (link)

"You never know," Lucy said casually, not looking away. She wasn't intimidated easily. "We smoke. You enjoy this bar, as do I. We are both foreigners in Paris. You could like the same sort of music as I do, or we could both loathe the same disgusting French dish. Your mum could have sang the same lullabies to you as my mum did to me, or we could both not even have a mum. I mean, we don't really know each other now, do we?"

She stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray before ordering another drink. "Can I get you anything, Mr. Köhler?" she asked, her manners coming through in spite of herself.

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wolfwork
2008-01-23 04:06 am UTC (link)

"It is just Köhler." Friedrich continued his constant stare. "Mr. Köhler was my father." Köhler-the-elder had been replaced by the State, the Fuhrer, and the Wolfebrudders; referred to in past-tense, though he was still living as comfortably any Berliner was these days.

Let the woman think of it what she would.

He did have the good grace to nod. "I misspeak." He placed a hand in the center of his chest, sketching a quick, seated bow. "Forgive. But you misspeak as well. I do not... 'enjoy' this place. I tolerate it." He retrieved his cigarette from the tray, brushing ashes onto the table. "And I do not wish a drink."

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paperlucy
2008-01-23 04:12 am UTC (link)

"Alright," Lucy replied. There was no way she was going to get anything useful out of this, especially since he seemed to think she was out of line for saying he liked Le Passant -- or rather, she "misspoke."

"Excuse me, then. How do you find Paris? Fitting in nicely, are we?" Bloody hell, she scolded herself internally. No sarcasm. Maybe, if she was lucky, he wouldn't pick up on it. After all, his English didn't seem to be anything stellar, but tone was pretty much universal. Damnit.

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wolfwork
2008-01-23 04:37 am UTC (link)

"No." His head tilted back slightly as he inhaled again - her scent had changed, subtly, but either he missed the sarcasm, or he ignored it. Probably the former.

"I do not care for cities. Much too loud, too many people, and they smell bad." Anyone could notice that one, he gathered; he was giving nothing away by that admittance. "Why anyone would choose them when one could have the wilds I will never understand."

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