She flicked some ash off her cigarette, took one final drag and then dropped it to her feet where she stomped it out. The cruel grin was a full cold smile when she finally turned her eyes on him again. Enyo was pleased. Reaching forward, she boldly drew a gloved finger along his jawline. “To see the look on your face, my barbarian friend, when you finally realize that I am the puppetmaster and these are my marionettes.”
Enyo withdrew her hand and brushed the fingertip off with the other gloved hand, as if to brush away any parasite or germ that may have transferred to her. She looked down at her gloves for just a moment, head tipping forward, then only her cold gray eyes slowly turned back on his face. “My dear puppets, who have done such a glorious job of desecrating your symbol, your hail, your name and everything you stand for, have done so at my manipulation of the strings.”
It was a confession, but not specific enough to say just watch she was taking credit for. The entire Nazi plan -no. That had developed mostly on it's own. Some of the genius things they used -yes. She saw potential in the movement and found a way to make her divine influence useful upon them.
“So,” she said, “I'll ask you again, Mein Herr,” Enyo raised her chin then, “How do you like my present?”