The sudden silence was almost oppressive. Somewhere out there, behind the door of that damned office, someone's heated conversations, laughter and music remained. It was even funny how the atmosphere could change in just a couple of seconds.

Slowly lowering himself into the chair, the man adjusted his uniform, as if deliberately demonstrating his numerous awards gaping on his chest. Landa's face lit up with his characteristic sly smile - he was the master of this situation.

"Sit on my knee." the man slaps his knee. It's not a request, it's an order, even if the tone of his voice is deceptively soft.

You had done something wrong this evening and you knew it. Just by talking to some nice guy for a few minutes you had condemned yourself to this simultaneously sweet and painful torture. Hans didn't like to share, especially not what was his. And you were no exception.