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[madamemoiselle]

{Dero was nice enough to motivate me to make a posting schedule, so here's Diva! She's still in Haydée's body, so as soon as she came here, the uniform she had been wearing was gone. But still, she's sitting behind a desk with neat piles of paperwork, all in German. There's a bulky typewriter that takes up most of the desk, and a small desk radio that sounds like a German radio program, though Diva had turned it down quite a while ago.

She also looks surprisingly tired. She leans back in the wooden chair, putting her palms lightly over her eyes.}

Ne, it's really stupid. I really shouldn't care, shouldn't--

{But something said on the radio catches her attention, so she lifts her palms to look at the radio}

My, isn't that something? President Roosevelt traveled by aeroplane last week. I'm sure he was going to meet Mr. Churchill, actually. I wonder if Amshel or Solomon will be there too, actually~ It was winter when they met them, if I remember correctly...

((ooc: Simultaneous plots, awesome. Diva is now in Germany, 1943))

Comments

[madamemoiselle]

{Her smile falls just a little}

I am. I think the radio would have given that away, though.

[didorothy]

Mengele?

[who, you know, become a zombie overlord and shot him in the leg, so it's a bit personal as far as Sam's concerned]

[madamemoiselle]

Josef.

{She nods} He was talking to me just now about going into town for the weekend.

[didorothy]

He betrayed you.

[madamemoiselle]

I know. I know, that. But he also took me to films on his days off, sang with me, did so many nice things for me.

{She brushes her hair behind her ear nervously} That's why it hurt more, I think.

[didorothy]

I don't want you hurt again.

[madamemoiselle]

It doesn't happen for a few more months.

{After a moment} I almost killed him, Sam. I almost did, but I couldn't. I couldn't do that to Josef, even knowing what he'd done.

[didorothy]

Do you... love him?

[madamemoiselle]

I did. Very much.

[didorothy]

Do you?

[madamemoiselle]

I don't know, Sam. I hate him, I really do, but I still feel...happy when he touches me or when he says my name. He was the only one that knew my real name, actually, so that was especially nice, but...It didn't mean anything, did it?

[didorothy]

[he opens his mouth to say something, hesitates, and then says,]

I don't know.

[madamemoiselle]

What do you want to say?

[didorothy]

I don't know. I don't know what to say.

[madamemoiselle]

I'm sure that you have some idea. There has to be something. Do you not feel anything?

[didorothy]

I know I don't want you hurt. I know I think he'll hurt you. The rest... I don't know.

[madamemoiselle]

{She smiles a little}

You always keep what you feel somewhere else. Annie said the same thing, so at least I know it's not me.

[didorothy]

[he frowns] I meant it. I don't... know. I suppose I'm relying on you to choose what makes you happiest.

[madamemoiselle]

Well, I've never been good at that is the problem. I was very happy with Josef, but we see how that turned out. He promised me my happiness, everything that I'd ever wanted, but he was using me all along. The happiness that I felt then was real, and it's real now, but he was lying all along.

{Stands} It hurt me, you know?

[didorothy]

[for just a moment, he shuts his eyes] I know.

[then he opens them up again]

[madamemoiselle]

{Watches quietly, but then she looks down, suddenly sounding very small}

But you won't hurt me, will you, Sam?

[didorothy]

[Vehemently, because she surprised the answer out of him]

No, of course not.

[madamemoiselle]

{She looks back up to him, smiling again}

Then I can live. Don't worry! I'll be fine.

[didorothy]

[slightly amused]

Why do people even bother saying 'don't worry' to me?

[madamemoiselle]

Reassurance to us, maybe?