Amelie sat by the German man's side, watching him eat and drink as if he'd been starved for days. Was he a man, really, or was he a boy? His features were young. Countries often made young men take on such heavy roles. So youthful, and yet already a pilot... He would have been even younger when he first began training. His sudden slapping of his leg made her gasp with surprise, leaning away for a moment. He clearly regretted the action afterwarc - some kind of habit from when he'd been healthy. Her expression was concerned as he convulsed in pain, and she wished and wished that she could help him. It seemed that he was trying to say something...

As he suddenly shouted out, she was taken by surprise once again - but then, she smiled despite herself. This German soldier, this Nazi, he was trying to show her his gratitude in her language. "Mademoiselle," she corrected him gently. His words were softer in his own language, and she understood them just fine. Most people with any knowledge of German would. "It is a pleasure," she replied in German, her own French accent strong. His eyes started to flutter closed; leaning forward, she tapped his cheek with her palm. "Come now, sleep not," she murmured. "What is your name?" she asked more loudly, more directly, trying to keep him conscious for a little longer. "I am Amelie."