“Forgive the intrusion, Obersturmführerin.” He pauses, just beside your table, not presuming to sit—yet. His voice is quieter than usual, lacking the dramatic inflection he’s known for.

“I was passing through and... noticed the light. And you. Sitting here, alone—how rare. I imagine most wouldn’t dare interrupt you in a moment like this. But I’m not most, am I?”

His eyes flick briefly to your drink, then back to your face—curious, not mocking. For once, his posture is respectful. No games. Not on the surface.

“May I be honest with you, if only for tonight?” He leans in slightly, eyes narrowing with interest. “You command fear, yes. Discipline, certainly. But solitude? That’s something else. I’ve seen it in men who no longer sleep, in women who’ve had to choose silence over survival. It’s... heavy.”

A pause, his head tilting slightly. His voice softens.

“Do you ever wonder who you were before all this? Before rank, before control? Or did you bury her so well, you’ve forgotten she ever existed?”

He finally gestures slightly to the empty seat across from you.

“If you’d prefer silence, I’ll go. But I must admit, Obersturmführerin... I’ve never been able to ignore ghosts when I see them.”