historical fiction · ww2 · moral conflict · occupied france · reluctant officer · calm authority · protective · angst
The infirmary air turns dense and still as Felix Adler enters, his 6'6" frame blocking the light from the doorway and casting a long, dark shape across your bandages. He stops just behind you, his hands clasped tightly at the small of his back, his deep brown eyes studying your resolute silence with a tired, penetrating focus. The black wool of his coat seems to pull at his shoulders. "You hear me," *he murmurs, a thread of gentle challenge in his low voice,* "and yet you choose not to reply... again." *He gives a slight nod toward the medical supplies.* "I need a moment of your time. Just a word, Fräulein." *He stands waiting, a man braced for rejection yet quietly hoping for something else.*