Stranger in Paradise (Inglourious Basterds - Velvet Waltz-verse)

1- The Dossier

The long wail of a siren drifted up from Riverside Drive that warm September morning, wandering into the open bedroom window, and finding the horizontal Sylvia Leventhal. Twelve stories above the traffic, she opened her eyes.

The smell of coffee. Clearly, she had not been the one to make the coffee. Interesting.

What really shook her awake, though, was what she didn't hear: Miri's voice.

Ah. Right. Miri was at college, two states away, where they'd dropped her off last week. There wouldn't be any heated political discussions over breakfast, or jazz records blaring from her bedroom, for a while. She was simultaneously heartbroken and relieved.

She rolled onto her side, unwilling to break the spell just yet. God, she loved that bed. It was more than just comfortable, more than where she lay with her husband every night, safe and warm. After the war years, when safety and comfort were so tough to come by, she never took it for granted.

Instinctively, she reached to her left. The sheets were cool to the touch.

"Angel," came a familiar voice from the doorway.

She groaned. "Just a few more minutes."

"We're expected at the Plaza at 10, and it's already 8:30." Hans gently sat on the edge of the bed. "Cold feet, perhaps?"

"Not cold feet, just tired," she said, sitting up. "Gimme."

Hans smiled and handed Sylvia the mug, the one Miri had bought her for her birthday: it had a crocodile painted on it, its tail forming the handle, and the word 'CROC-O-DOODLE-DOO.'

Just a splash of milk, just the way she liked it. "Coffee in bed? I'd better keep you around."

"And almond croissants in the kitchen." Hans waited for her reaction.

"You went to Hungarian Pastry without me?" she squealed. It was one of their favorite spots.

"I didn't want to wake you." He began to stroke her knee. "There won't be much sleep in our immediate future."

"If we take it. We haven't actually said yes."

"Correct. We could always turn it down."

"We don't know what they're asking of us! It could be really dangerous."

Hans smirked. "Has that ever stopped us before?"

Sylvia took a long swig of the coffee. "Nope."

"I'm not looking forward to the surveillance. Personally, I hope this doesn't mean G-men breathing down our necks 24 hours a day. I know how you chafe at authority."

"How I chafe at authority?" she snorted.

"And we should ask about the likelihood of being home for Thanksgiving break."

"The likelihood is 100%. We're not missing time with Miri."

"Absolutely."

"Oh god, Hans!" Sylvia set the mug on the nightstand. "I still don't know what to tell her!"

"Perhaps, we just tell her we're on vacation." He leaned in and began to kiss her neck. "A long vacation in California."

Sylvia sighed. "I guess..."

"Just laying on the beach, getting suntans, and eating oranges off of trees." His hand began to travel up her thigh.

"Keep that up and we'll never make the Plaza by 10," she giggled.