Of course, this wasn't new. He'd been feeling odd for most his life; and more often than not, this 'oddity' had manifested itself through rather violent outbursts. Hugo didn't really stop to reflect upon them, he just went on with his rage, his killings, and the love for sharp knives.
And then of course, there were classic targets for his hatred. Like the SS officers; because he knew what they did.
But here, in this place? He was a security officer, with power to use, alright. The opportunity appeared seldom, however, and then, killing was out of the question. Plus, he couldn't kill a man just for getting drunk and breaking a few glasses, could he?
And the language matter, damn. Couldn't any person here speak bloody German? Was it so difficult?
So he said to himself that a nice walk would calm his nerves -- perhaps.