It was peculiar. Moments before, all Verena could sense from the woman was anger. Now, she felt the complete opposite. Pity? Sympathy? The woman must have been as frustrated as her, having her home being shelled to pieces. The Red Cross symbol on her nurses uniform probably didn't mean a thing at all. It wasn't news that their organization was forced to treat german soldiers first before any others. Many poles had died because of it. 

"It's quite alright," she said, offering a smile that she rarely gave these days. There wren't too many things to smile about at all in the fell clutches of war. "I sometimes forget that I'm not at the immediate mercy of the Gestapo. Our words have to be spoken carefully. The right things earn favor while the wrong things got you thrown into a dark cell. I love the Fuhrer, the fatherland, and the sacred mission he so passionately speaks of. I came hear thinking all of this," she motioned to the things outside, "was well justified, to cleanse Europe. Now, I think it makes us barbarians more so than civilized people."

Verena stood there surprised when the waitress asked her not too leave. She had to go back to the tents. She was sure her thirty minutes were up. Well up in fact. Would they all be okay if she didn't head back? A part of her didn't want to go back after her treasonous words she shared with a complete stranger. What if the waitress was an informant? Her strikingly beautiful features that rivaled many german women in the Reich, and her perfect command of german couldn't be a coincidence. Fear clutched at her heart as her new found revelation saturated her thoughts like a parasite. 

Her eyes refocused. It was getting harder to breathe. "Show me what?" she asked tentatively. "You're not ... you're not with the Gestapo are you...? Could you forget everything I said?"