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Bright, yellow sunlight filtered in through the wide windows of the cafe, illuminating the tiny specs of dust that floated serenely between the various patrons, unaware of their presences. There was the usual buzz of chatter, which seemed to fill even the corners of the room, though there might have been less than ten bodies sitting at the circular tables. They sipped from teacups and nibbled neatly arranged pastries, their talk underscored by a medley of piano notes. These were being prodded out of the lovely grand piano in the corner nearest the counter by a tall male with long, slender fingers. Surprisingly vivid blue eyes glanced down at the keys only occasionally, before absentmindedly wandering around his workplace once again. The dirty blonde hair that sat atop his head was slicked back, though it quivered every time he bobbed or tilted his head in tune with his playing.

No one really paid much attention to him; He and his music could have been part of the wallpaper, for all the praise it got. Regardless, he played well, one worn out loafer tapping out a beat on the concrete while the other pressed down on the right pedals of his instrument. No one really paid much attention to him, except for one girl, who had the same irises as he. Her long, pale blonde hair was brushed back and tied up in a ponytail, which swished lightly from side to side as she made her way through the tables, sometimes pausing to collect empty glasses and plates. While her father wore a suit jacket, she sported a simple blue day dress that fell to her ankles, complete with the mandatory white apron that hung around her waist.

More often than not, her gaze trailed over to the man and the piano, observing, her expression sometimes betraying a hint of longing. The task of carrying a tray of dirtied tableware to and from the kitchen wasn't nearly as satisfying as his job - a complaint she reminded him of constantly. Of course, these complaints only ever made it past her lips at their home, and she continued to perform her humdrum responsibilities as the bus girl without noise. But as he finished his piece with a flourish of his hands, she couldn't help herself. With her tray tucked between her arm and her side, she padded over to her father as he stood up from the bench, stretching. Her fingers, a more feminine version of his own, brushed against the keys when she arrived beside it, and they seemed to greet her, firm against her touch. Black, white, black, white, white…

"Adalyn."

The girl was pulled from her idle trance by the touch of her father's hand on her neck, and she looked up at him, her own hand retracting from the piano. At the age of sixteen, she already stood at a height of 5'5", and was still a head shorter than him. "Hm?" she replied, her eyebrows cocked innocently at his amused expression as if there was nothing wrong. "I may be on my break, but you should still be working," was his reply, and with a warm smile, he gave her an affectionate pat on the head that ruffled her hair before striding past her into the kitchen.

Ada turned and watched him go, the smallest of sighs escaping through her nostrils as she reached up and smoothed her strands back into place. The argument that the cafe wasn't as busy today died on her lips as she began once again to patrol the tables, the clack clack of her shoes inaudible amongst the laughter of the customers.

It was definitely turning out to be one of the better days, as indicated by the sun beating through the windows of the small workshop Erich currently found himself inside. Sweating frantically, he strove to complete the day's project. Carpentry. It was definitely no light work, but it was something the sixteen year old boy's father took great pride in. Certainly that alone had the man encouraging his son to follow in his footsteps. He was a proud man and simply hoped the same could be said for his son, but it was something the boy didn't worry about too much. Each project was only helping to aid the Fatherland, after all. At least that was what he and so many others were always taught anyway. It was almost the perfect set-up for a boy who so greatly resembled the ideal German image with his golden head of hair and alluring blue eyes. This certainly had a few heads bobbing in his direction, and it was yet just another sign of satisfaction in his father's eyes.

The day's project was particularly daunting for Erich, but he was adamant. Cabinet building. It was definitely an art his father had perfected, but he didn't appear to have the same such luck. Noticing this, he simply glanced at his work in progress and sighed. Much of it was still crooked and lazily sanded which only brought back images of the boy's father; what would he think? Clearly he strove for his son to adopt the very same trade he had focused on for so many years before finally shifting his focus to politics.

Ah, politics. It was the one thing that seemed to really matter now in this time of desperation. Even the most passionate of tradesmen had been leaving their jobs in pursue of something greater. Erich's own father stood out as one such man. Certainly it didn't bother the boy who was his only son, but it did leave him with plenty of spite towards his mother who was all but deceased at this point. Hers was a face that simply burned in everybody's mind, even if just as an example of what not to become in a society so obsessed with ideological purity. Still, it was in the past so the boy simply shrugged it off as he continued struggling with his latest project.

Did Erich really want to be a carpenter? It was truly the burning question of the day, but one he couldn't think too much about. Certainly not under the prying eyes of his father at least, but this time he was absent. Perhaps just one of the perks of being a Nazi Party official, having one's presence nearly everywhere. With somebody as proud as Erich's father seemed to be, it was fitting. Relieving too, leaving the boy with some space to breath. "I think it's time for a break. What's five minutes of freedom?" He uttered as he placed down his tools and took one final glance at the cabinet in progress. There was no exaggerating the rough shape it was in, but the boy was confident that upon his father's return that everything would be set in place, making even the fussy Eichmann family proud. This managed to bring a small smirk to the boy's face as he proceeded to wipe the sweat off his brow before finally changing out of his work clothes.

Being in the heart of Berlin, there were plenty of cafes lining the city streets, but there was one in particular that managed to capture Erich's eye as he exited the workshop. It seemed to have a welcoming and homely aura to it, yet it was one he hadn't actually visited despite having arrived in the city almost a year ago. The boy admittedly missed Hamburg, but party work definitely made the boy's father needed in Berlin hence the two simply packed up and attempted to make a new life despite the absence of who was once a wife and mother. Fortunately, feelings of brotherhood were strong in these times of hardship, even enabling the boy to talk to passerby on the streets. "Is this cafe any good? I can't say I've been in there before." He blurted out, stopping an older man on the street. Startled by the boy's sudden appearance, the man simply nodded with sincerity before carrying on with his daily business.This alone was enough to prompt the boy to enter.

Unsurprisingly, there were other people present in the cafe, but Erich simply took a seat alone over in one of the far corners. It was away from the hustle and bustle and would perhaps even give him an opportunity to think things over. There was plenty of that running through his head, after all, with the amount of pressure being put on him. He certainly wasn't about to be surprised if others were currently trapped in a similar situation, but all these people present were not ones he was about to delve into the personal lives of. He had his own demons to confront and other people's would only be a further burden. Realizing this, he simply glanced out the window into the city streets as he awaited a chance to be served. Everybody was burdened by something, even if they didn't necessarily present it as they traversed down the street or sat in a cozy city cafe.

The eldest of three children, Adalyn was the only sibling sent to work with their father at the small cafe. Her two younger brothers, both brunette and rather annoying, were helping - or, more likely, just fooling around - at home, blessed with the company of their firm but warmhearted mother. With her waist-length mane and fast mouth, Nathalie was the epitome of a French woman and quite possibly the glue of the Saks family. Her work was at home, mending and laundering clothes for clients that always had a smile and some kind words to offer her offspring. The boys both had her face while Ada was a replica of their father, a fact that they often teased her with. But the girl never minded. Although they might always go on and on about not having a favorite parent so as to keep in good graces, deep down she knew that it had to be him. How could he not be, after he had passed his knowledge down to her and taught her how to play the first love of her life?

It was a well-known fact amongst family friends and neighbors that Mr. Saks was the more susceptible of the two. Not to say that he was a pushover; no, far from it. He was just more gentle and whimsical than his wife, and it was always rather easy to sweet-talk some coins for candies out of him. Perhaps it was because of his belief in silly idioms such as 'opposites attract' that Martin decided to marry such an imposing woman. Whatever it was, the universe was happier for the union, which struck a balance within the family that defined their childhood. All the laughs they'd gotten from the subtle, amused glances Martin would steal at them whenever Nathalie would launch herself into a fit over the smallest detail: The way he would repent by grabbing her into a dance that may or may not have matched the tone of the song on the radio: The begrudging smile that would inevitably mold her mother's lips before she beckoned the children to join in. This was what Ada called her home.

Lately, however, it seemed that her father was taking page by page from his wife's book, for there was a noticeable change in his demeanor since the air within Germany had begun to shift. Although he hadn't become a loud, nagging machine, he was much quieter, and less joyous - especially during family outings to the Temple or even to the sweets shop. The children couldn't understand why, nor could they yet interpret the meaning in the way Martin's head seemed to hang a little lower. They couldn't understand, but they knew something within the Fatherland was stirring. It didn't take long for them to notice that even friends from the neighborhood were beginning to treat them differently, giving them funny stares or else ignoring them completely. What it was all about, Ada did not know. But she knew that she did not like it one bit.

The funny stares and occasional rude comments followed them all the way to their workplace, which was unfortunate, because it wasn't as if they could simply walk away from them like they did on the streets. Whenever it happened, Ada had learned from her father to simply apologize and keep her mouth shut, though of course, being the daughter of her mother, she wanted to do everything but. Thankfully, since the flow of customers was slow today, and many seemed to be too busy to take notice of the girl striding between their tables, cleaning after them, the incident counter so far was low.

While balancing a plate, cutlery, and a glass still half full of milk, Ada began the mundane journey back to the kitchen, where she knew her father would be, munching on a sandwich made by her mama and chatting with the other servers. Having done this many times before, she might have been an expert at maneuvering through the maze of patrons, careful not to tilt her tray too far in one direction. But suddenly a chair at her side scooted backwards so far that she could not avoid it, and it pushed into her side with a force that caused her to drop the tray. The sounds of the silverware clattering onto the floor, as well as the shattering of the glass and the plate, seemed to echo in the silence that ensued, during which everyone seemed to have their judging eyes turned towards her.

The large man who had run into her with his chair immediately jumped up from his place and towered over her, his eyes wide with impatience. "Do you not watch where you are going, stupid girl?!" he spat at the top of her head, for she stood frozen, her apron wet with the spilled milk, staring wide eyed at the mess on the floor. It was only at the last bit that Adalyn seemed to start, and she turned around to correct him with an expression that her mother might have been proud of. But even as she opened her mouth to retort that it had been he who had caused the trouble, she stopped herself short. From the corner of her eyes she had seen the kitchen door swing open to reveal her father, who gave her the slightest shake of his head.

With a burning inside her belly and the frustration nearly spilling from her throat, she closed her mouth, inhaled through her nostrils, then said through slightly gritted teeth, "I guess not, sir. I apologize." And before he could answer, she dropped down onto her hands and knees, careful to avoid the white and crystal pieces of the broken tableware. She heard him grumbling above her but had already tuned him out, only listening for the sounds of his heavy feet as the pounded away from her.

Her eyebrows were furrowed together with indignation as she took out a rag and began scooping the shards back onto her tray, pursing her lips together to keep from muttering her irritation under her breath. It was only when she had begun reaching forward to pick up the forks and spoons that she realized she was practically underneath another patron, and she lifted her eyes to him if only to see if she'd bothered him, as well. "Don't mind me, sir," she said, a bit more roughly than she had intended. Clearing her throat as if that might excuse her tone, she pondered about how strange it felt to be calling someone that looked to be about her age "sir" as she took in his appearance. Deciding that he looked much like the friends that were likely to give her a cold shoulder, Ada turned her attention back to the fork that had slid near his chair without another word.

Before she could reach it, however, she retracted her other hand quickly from the floor as if it had been made of fire. Having moved it forward in order to lean on it, Adalyn hadn't noticed the clear, sharp piece of glass on which she had just cut the side of her thumb. "Ah," she hissed as she looked at the small incision, which was already spilling blood. With a frown, she placed the wound inside her mouth and sucked it clean, still keeping her gaze away from the boy as the piano notes began to fill the air once more. She resisted the urge to throw her father a pointed glance, knowing that he was just doing his job, knowing that he was counting on her.

The cafe unmistakeably seemed to be on the more hectic side today, but Erich was definitely accustomed to that sort of environment. If anything, it was simply a way to resume his life as it always was. Chaos. It seemed to follow the Schäfer family like a lost kitten. Sometimes the boy admittedly didn't mind, but at this particular moment it simply served to remind him of his mother, prompting him to let out a huge sigh as he continued glancing out the cafe window. Out of all the passerby on the street he could only decipher they too were on breaks, although like him there was bound to be something burdening them. It was certainly one of the more interesting sides of people; each had a motivation for their actions and nobody was exempted from that rule.

As much as Erich found himself engrossed in the human nature of others, there was something else occurring nearby that managed to capture the curious boy's attention. One of the waitresses, admittedly who wasn't exactly hard on the eyes, had stumbled. That was not the sort of service the boy had been expecting, but clearly the others hadn't either as indicated by some of the comments she received from another patron. People here didn't seem the most warm and welcoming, but Erich knew it was still only the beginning of his own experience, something that proved especially true once the waitress from just seconds earlier proceeded to bend down to clear up her mess. As unintentional as it may had been she was beginning to give the boy a show, one he even found himself enjoying as he gawked at each of the girl's movements.

Between the older man storming out of the kitchen and the waitress girl down on the floor, this particular lunch break was turning out to be a rather interesting one, particularly with the newest development that happened only seemingly seconds later. Just moments ago the girl had been keeping a distance as she put on her show, yet she had proceeded closer and was now practically beneath Erich! The boy took great pleasure in this just as any boy his age would, although he was hesitant to show it off so instead simply blushed as the girl finally proceeded to speak. Maybe it was only his imagination, but to him hers was definitely an angelic and melodic voice, one he was suddenly longing to hear more of. Lust was a funny thing, and even one people had little understanding of.

"Don't mind you? Well you're certainly in my business now." Erich finally proceeded to speak up himself as the girl fully acknowledged his presence. Somehow he felt his weak attempt at a joke wouldn't be welcomed at this point so he simply let out a small chuckle before going silent. Only the seconds that continued to tick by would determine how the girl would actually react, although she appeared to have a much larger concern on her hands. Quite literally, in fact, as blood continued oozing from it. This only seemed to be a minor hindrance to the girl, but Erich proceeded to offer a bit of weak advice anyway. "Put pressure on it, and wrap it tightly. It helps. Certainly it will keep your blood from spilling all over your patron's food as well." He smiled, indicating his was simply friendly honest advice and nothing malicious. He didn't intend to get on this beautiful woman's bad side just yet, after all.

When the young man first spoke up, Adalyn automatically colored his tone with something akin to how the male patron who'd stormed out had spoken to her. This only elicited silence on her part, as she did not want to let slip anything that might earn her father's disapproval. The comment might not have even been remotely belligerent, seeing as he emitted a small chuckle afterwards as if confirming that it wasn't, but the 'being in his business' bit didn't seem too friendly at the moment. Perhaps it was just her pride, slipping in to lick her wounds after the rather embarrassing incident, that made her want to think he was being hostile with her. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned", and all that. But as he spoke again, this time offering her advice on how to treat the fresh wound, she couldn't deny that he seemed harmless enough.

Although she'd probably never admit it aloud to anyone, especially this unabashed stranger, she did quite like the attention that he seemed determined to give her. Ada had felt his eyes on her as she cleaned the mess, and whether it was consciously or unconsciously, she had taken her time of it and left the cutlery under his seat until she was nearly finished for a reason. Maybe it was because she seemed to be getting less and less consideration these past few weeks, or maybe it was because (deny it as she might) he was nice to look at, and she was simply being a little selfish. Regardless, as he smiled at her, she felt an inexplicable push to do the same. Finally looking up at him, she did so, albeit forming one much smaller and less warm than his, but it was a smile, nonetheless.

"That would be a good idea," she said in reply with a soft chuckle under her breath as she took a clean corner of the rag she had used and wrapped it around her thumb, holding it in place with her other fingers as she scooped the offending pieces of glass onto the tray along with the silverware that had initiated the entire encounter. She picked herself up off the ground and, feeling a bit sheepish for her unnecessary aggression now that her head was a little clearer, turned the subtlest shade of pink as she bent down and picked up her tray. "Thank you. And again, apologies, er, for the interruption."

The girl's eyes flickered for a moment towards the rest of the seats at his table, as if looking to see if he'd come in with anyone. Deciding that he looked to be in no other company, she hiked up the tray against her hip and spoke again. "Is anyone helping you?" she asked curiously, half for his sake and half for her own selfish reasons. Somehow she was sort of reluctant to leave him just yet, and thought that extending her duties to the cafe for once wouldn't be such a bad thing. "Or were you wanting something? I can put in the order, if you'd like?" Everyone around them had gone back to their business, except for a few behind the counter that were still throwing occasional glances her way, and her father, who was doing the same.

Certainly the woman initially didn't seem too impressed by Erich's remarks, but this seemed to be quickly remedied by the fact he had offered advice on how to treat the wound. He was certainly no doctor, but such injuries were all too common in his line of work so it was always best to know how to treat them as well. This was something he didn't dare mention to the woman though, forming what was bound to be strictly a professional relationship. There wasn't even any guarantee he would see her again after this so there was certainly little reason to get too friendly with her, despite the fact she was all too easy on the eyes. This simply had him continuing to glance at her while she cleared the last of the mess and continued once again on her way.

"No problem, Fräulein." Erich responded with hesitation, breaking his concentration he had focused on the girl. If she didn't appreciate such sentiment she definitely wasn't expressing it, thus he hadn't stopped. It was only when the woman returned with desire to take his order that he proceeded with his day as it had began. "I do actually." I don't just hang out in cafes to gawk at gorgeous women. The words he truly wanted to say didn't come out, although he was glad they hadn't. Somehow this woman didn't seem like the type to take shit from anybody, especially not with the other vicious looking older man occasionally retreating from the kitchen. "Just get me your lunch special." Erich finally continued, after several seconds of contemplation over what he really wanted. At least on the surface, but this woman certainly didn't need to know of his deeper lustful desires.

While awaiting his order Erich could only continue glancing around at the other patrons and the streets outside. He felt that more than one of them were on lunch break or even going about business of their own, but he certainly couldn't get his mind off the woman who had just served him. He had even managed to get more of a view of her than originally anticipated. Certainly a rare treat. Despite that though, it was even driving him to want to talk to the woman further. What was there to say to her though? Would she even want to talk to him? They hadn't exactly had the most subtle first introduction, after all. Most of all though he didn't even know her name, but it almost didn't matter; that was something for her to give to him. Until her return that only had him sitting in silence, awaiting a chance to smile at her once again. Smiles. They were always a universal gesture of kindness so with some luck it would even work wonders here with this woman who had very quickly become an object of his physical desires. At the very least, he wanted to attach a name to the face.