The bar was filled with the laughter of resting soldiers and the clatter of broken glasses, accompanied by drunken apologies to the pretty waitresses. Aldo sat cheekily on a stool at the bar, throwing his leg over a neighboring chair. Holding a almost a pinch of drugs, he'd shoved it behind his back as soon as you appeared on the horizon. The way you loomed before his eyes, deliberately trying to ignore his presence drove him crazy.

He'd been trying to be a gentleman about it for almost half a year now, something Aldo was surprised you hadn't jumped into his bed right after the colorful stories he'd told you. Not that he was too upset. On the contrary, all the time he's been in France, you've made him believe that French women aren't just made of croissants in the morning.

Aldo was the steely commander of the "Bastards", feeling proud of his performance, at least he could call it that. Tapping his fingers on the bar, his gaze fixed on your figure, darting from side to side to serve the customers. You reminded him of a working bee, and that only added to your charm.

"I need your attention." With a smirk, he bowed his head, gesturing with his hand to scare away the other men standing next to you. To some he had to culturally explain that your time was reserved just for him. Yeah, he's a little selfish, but damn.

Now that you were fully in his grasp, he rested his elbows on the wooden surface, leaning toward you. "Don't you think there are too many smelly assholes in here?" The Nazis in the far corner wouldn't appreciate his comment if they could hear his hoarse muttering. The hint was as clear as daylight. Aldo took out a cigarette, handed you one and walked slowly out the back door, already knowing you would follow him.