german is german whether a basterd or not.

[ELIZABETH REBEKKA WEINSTEIN.]

i'll just close my eyes and pretend,
that you're holding me tight tonight.

Elizabeth smiled at Hugo, she knew he meant well, he didn't do emotions and she knew how that could be as she tended to toughen up around her male counterparts as she hated to show her weaknesses. She didn't know how they would react to her crying, she just imagined them laughing at her, especially someone like Donny, but then again, they weren't exactly heartless, so possibly they would actually care about her and try to make her feel better, but the fact that Aldo knew and he hadn't told another one of the Basterds, maybe it was a sign that it wasn't a good idea to tell them, she didn't know but she would keep her mouth shut from now on, she was kind of regretting telling Hugo now because he would know why she was so distant at random moments when speaking with them. Also he would now be the only one who knew which could prove problematic if he was thrown into a situation where he had to tell someone about it, he would most likely tell people and then everyone knew her secrets and she was left to deal with it, again as people asked the questions and dug the past up again.

He laughed. She blinked. Did he just really laugh at her situation? She knew he was a very strange person, but not one to laugh in such a sad situation, but then he made himself clear. What he said was true and in reality made her chuckle slightly to herself. She was beginning to come around to his point of view, although she still thought it would be poetic justice for the man who killed her brother to die the way he did, after all, she was all for romanticising and such, she was an artist. If she was back at home she would have either been an actress, a singer or a ballet dancer. She missed dancing as she hadn't be able to do it for a very long time, but she had been out of practise and hoped that maybe she could do some soon, but for now she is settling for acting and singing for now as she got to do that daily.

As she blinked, a tear trickled down her face, but she ignored it, she didn't care for it at the moment. "That does sound like a better plan than mine," she said with a little smile and a nod towards him, as if thanking him for it. "I guess that is why you are the large brute and I am the silly little girl caught up in these war games," she said a little absently, it was how she always felt in this situation. She always felt as if she wasn't supposed to be here, like this was a complete mix up in the time lines and she had been put here by mistake in some strange mix up, like the person who was supposed to be standing here went by the name of Elizabeth Weinstin and they were just confused and now the mistake had happened, they couldn't go back and change it. Although she hated being here, she liked it at the same time because she was able to get her justice, her revenge and most of all, do right by her whole family.

She was distracted by the rat and the cat and her smile appeared once again. It reminded her of being back at home when the cats would chase the rats down the street while you tried to buy a loaf of bread. The fondest memory being that of her and her brother outside the shop while her pregnant mother bought their dinner for that night. The rat scampered along the road and the cat was chasing him, cornering him and then the cat meowed loudly and the rat played dead. Then the rat jumped back to his feet and jumped at the cat in a playing manner, they were just playing and she would always remember that. Races that battled for years and years could still be friends if a bond was that strong, after all Elizabeth was a Jew, yet she could be friends with Hugo, a man of German decent, the race that was eradicating hers. Funny how something so simple can mean some many things to so many different people.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

our darling heroine ELIZABETH decided to go out as JULIETTE and mingle with the locals. she met up with HUGO in the small paris MARKET. there they spoke of typical girl things such as her darling OUTFIT and men, but of course they spoke in GERMAN. she couldn't believe it took her SEVEN HUNDRED AND TWENTY NINE words to finally FINISH what she had to say.

[/blockquote]

[SGT HUGO STIGLITZ]

Women. If there was one thing that was harder than killing a group of twenty armed Nazi's in a basement while a bit drunk, it was trying to help a woman whose emotions got the better of her. To Hugo, it was as if someone gave him a wrench, placed him in front of a world-wide computer with touch screens and programs that could set off a bomb in every country and told him to be careful. Sure, he could take the wrench and just beat the crap out of the computer, but something told him taking a brute approach to Liza's tear would set off one of those bombs right over the bridge of their 'friendship'.

The word friends had been losing it's meaning over the years, but the basterds had been trying to build it up and Hugo would be damned to let his own insecurity when it came to emotions come in the way of one of the very few people he considered close. After the initial stun of his response had subsided in her eyes and she did not look as shocked, a tear rolled down her face but she did nothing to hide it, as if she did not even realize it had trickled down.

His lips squashed together in contemplation and finally, he raised a hand and placed it on her cheek, using his thumb to wipe away the tear that remained on her soft skin. After this moment, he removed his hand, not too much contact, and wiped the tear on his pants, where else was he going to put it? "Better you're a silly basterd than a silly Nazi," he said, his eyebrows raising in a subtle warning of concern. Did he really appear that brute? It was primarily apathy, but this sense of belonging sure had a tendency to make him rethink his apathetic views on life.

"Evr'one's got an ugly past," he spoke up again and immediately regretted it. Where the hell was he going to take this? He did not know what to say next, hell, even he had an ugly past, but he would not dare tell anyone about that. Still, he heard it made some people feel better to know that they were not alone. That's it - "I got some scars in my history too, you're not alone, Liza" he said, finding that subtle hint enough to comfort her but not let her see deeply into him, that would be rather scary.

[ELIZABETH REBEKKA WEINSTEIN.]

i'll just close my eyes and pretend,
that you're holding me tight tonight.

Elizabeth was sometimes a bottle and her emotions stayed in it, most of the times that happened and no one ever knew what was running through her head. On the odd occasion, the bottle would come open and explode like a bottle of champagne, much like she had done now. Maybe she was losing her touch, or maybe it was something that just came out because of the situation she was in or the company she had kept. Hugo wasn't exactly a Basterd you could tell all your fears too and he would give you a hug and make sure you're okay, but he was someone you could talk to and he would offer some words, but that was about it, he wouldn't hug her tightly and tell her everything was going to be okay and in reality, that would actually make it worse as she cried even more and her brother ran through her head for a longer period of time. His hand touched her face, removing the tear that trickled down her cheek, a tear she hadn't noticed escaping. His touch was rough because his hands were, it didn't hurt and she didn't flinch, it might have been rough to the touch, but it was a friendly gesture and it brought a small smile to her face. "Thank you," she said, barely audible.

"Better you're a silly basterd than a silly Nazi." It made her smile widen slightly. He was right, she would much rather be a silly Basterd, at least then she was surrounded by warm hearted men who would protect her, they wouldn't sail her down the river for a chance to further themselves and most of all, she herself wasn't a cold hearted killer. She didn't murder innocent people because they were of the wrong blood, or because they had different beliefs or even because they were homosexual, she was of kind heart, some of her closest friend were actually "nergoes", as they disgustingly put it, and even homosexuals, but she was not a Nazi, oh no, she was a Basterd a person who loved everyone around her and didn't discriminate against anyone, well, apart from Nazis of course! Being a Basterd gave her a sense of belonging to a greater cause, something that was for good and something that kept her safe, after all, if she was ever in trouble, she would always have some lean, mean man standing behind her to save her life. "You have a point there Hugo," she said, smiling through the pain that still lingered in her heart.

She looked at him as he spoke and she didn't change her facial expression, acting as if she wasn't reacting. On the inside, she had reacted, she had felt suddenly curious to know what his past was. Yes, she knew he had killed Gestapo officers, but she didn't know anything else, his family, his childhood, what the Nazis did to make him flip or even what they did to him while they had him arrested, she only knew that Aldo and the others busted him out of jail. He had scars too, everyone did she guessed, it was just a way of life really. Gazing up at the taller German, she smiled lightly, placing a light hand on his shoulder, just to make him feel a little better, even though she knew he didn't do emotions. "If you ever need to talk, I am here," she started, pushing back her own problems and hoping he would be okay. She glanced at her hand that was still there and removed it quickly, she felt a little awkward touching this large brute, he didn't show emotion and she felt that he could think she was trying to force them out of him, she just wanted him to know she was there if he ever felt he was going to explode like she just had.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

our darling heroine ELIZABETH decided to go out as JULIETTE and mingle with the locals. she met up with HUGO in the small paris MARKET. there they spoke of typical girl things such as her darling OUTFIT and men, but of course they spoke in GERMAN. she couldn't believe it took her SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY words to finally FINISH what she had to say.

[/blockquote]

[SGT HUGO STIGLITZ]

She seemed appreciative of that one small gesture of kindness. Then again, Hugo wiping a tear from her face was about as rare as the Fuhrer himself lifting Elizabeth in his arms and twirling her around in fits of laughter; it was just plain weird. Never-the-less, her slight smile dangerously teetered on the border of whether Hugo would smile or not. He was not much of a tooth shiner, his smile never twinkled like Donny's did. Hell, he did not even have that scruffy mustache to give his smile some rough patches like Aldo. No, he had a clean face, narrow nose and glaring eyes. His smile could scare King Kong off that damn building.

In return, she stated that if he wanted to talk, she was listening. What could that mean? He had been saying things every now and then, right? Hadn't he just told her it was a good thing to be a silly Basterd? Then it hit, it hit him as hard as the whip that had been taken to his back: she meant if he wanted to talk about anything in his past, anything that had taken an effect on him. Could he open up? To anybody? Better yet, could he open up to Liza? She was trustworthy, she had confided in him it was polite to return the favor, even if one really cannot call it a favor.

Hist mouth opened and remained agap for a second before he slammed it shut. At first, his mental battle took the defensive approach. Why the hell would anyone want to know what happened to Hugo? Nobody really wanted to know what lay deep in his dark mind, if he hadn't lost his mind completely by this time, that it. What did hurt him? If it did not kill kill, it only made him crazier, and that made him stronger. If that Jewish woman had not been shot in front of his face, then he would not have been a Basterd, so that story could be saved for later...maybe. If his father had not been a drunkard with a firm fist, Hugo would have been much softer and less deadly, so that story did not need to be stated, ever.

"I - uh," he paused, deciding what bothered him the most. "When the, uh, Nazis held me prisoner," he did not know if she was aware that he had been captured for a severe case of 'insubordination', to put it gently, "they whipped me," he ended, keeping it short and simple. Hugo Stiglitz was no cry baby, he did not even cry when he was being whipped, even if he did draw blood in his own mouth from biting his tongue too hard. "Still got the scars."

[ELIZABETH REBEKKA WEINSTEIN.]

i'll just close my eyes and pretend,
that you're holding me tight tonight.

Men were never ones for emotions or spilling everything that was on their mind because it was weird and proved how weak you were in their own weird thinking. There was only two people who ever split their emotions and that was her brother and a dear friend of hers from back home. Even her own father could never cry in front of any one, he was constantly silent when some terrible happened, even his own mother dying didn't cause him to cry, instead, he just continued to read his paper as Elizabeth herself cried so loudly. She knew that being a woman kind of gave her a free ticket to emotional because people expected it of them, they just thought that all women cried at everything. Although true of the old Elizabeth, she had toughened herself up and now she kept it inside and the only time she cried was when she was away from other people, she didn't like people watching her cry because it showed weakness, but when she needed to blow, she needed to blow and this was one of those times. At least it was Hugo and not Donny who would probably tell everyone after laughing at her, she knew what Americans were like.

She watched him for a moment, he seemed to be toying with the idea of telling her his past. If he didn't want to, he didn't have to because, after all, he was a man, they didn't express their emotions and feeling as easy as she did. They didn't tell people their past to show them why they are like they are now, they just locked up the past and spoke of other topics such as cigarettes and poker games. She always knew when a male had sullen thoughts as his tone changed, but he still spoke about whatever he was still talking about. When the subject was changed by another male, the sad male would brighten up and snap himself out of it because he realised that he was being stupid. He wasn't stupid at all, just emotional. They needed it to come out otherwise they would just be bitter, hence why she offered her loving services to Hugo, someone who she felt could actually benefit from explaining his downfall.

He spoke and she listened, looking up at Hugo. When she heard the stories of the him, she imagined him to be extremely tall, and although he was bigger than her, in height, there was only three inches difference, something that surprised her. His words made her think, it was a struggle for him to say nine words, explaining how they hurt him. He still did not shed a tear or show any emotion. She carefully placed a hand on his shoulder, not too heavily, but not too lightly, just the right amount of pressure so he knew that she understood and that she would care for him, even if he didn't care for himself. "They disgust me, how they could hurt a good man like you," she said, slowly taking her hand away from his shoulder and looking back into those icey eyes of his. He was a Basterd, and a good one at that and that's why she truly respected him. "The Nazis seem to always find a way to kick a person down, they do not realise that they are just adding fuel to the fire, a fire that is going to kill them sooner than they think," she said. She had finally gotten over her own outburst and was trying to comfort Hugo with her words of strange wisdom.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

our darling heroine ELIZABETH decided to go out as JULIETTE and mingle with the locals. she met up with HUGO in the small paris MARKET. there they spoke of typical girl things such as her darling OUTFIT and men, but of course they spoke in GERMAN. she couldn't believe it took her SIX HUNDRED AND ONE words to finally FINISH what she had to say.

[/blockquote]

[SGT HUGO STIGLITZ]

He had known better. Truth be told, it was not the venting that men hated, it was the comfort afterwards. The gentle touches, the warm hugs, the 'I'm so sorry's that really agitated men. Hugo was not the one to be hugged, or to hug anyone for that matter. Nor was he the one to hold hands with and tell him that everything was going to be alright. He was not a little puppy who cried out when someone stepped on his tail and could only be comforted when someone held him close and patted his head. No, he was more like the alligator who lost his meal and anyone who got close enough would lose their head. Luckily, Liza could recognize this and she did not hug him, she did not give him a pat on the head, hell she did not even say 'everything's going to be alright, I'm here'; as if anyone's presence could actually save the brute from himself.

She placed her hand on his shoulder, not one of those overbearing 'oh sweet man' kind of shoulder grabs, it was more like a 'least you're still alive' sort of grabs, which was exactly the way to approach Hugo. However, she did say that he was a good man, which actually made him smile that creep smile that the German could conjure. "Good man? I may be a good man for killing all those Nazi's, but I'm the farthest from a good man you can get, das Mädchen," he said, using a German 'slang' term for woman. Still, a compliment from a beautiful woman went a bit further than a compliment from another of the Basterds, although they wouldn't ever compliment him, not like he would want them to anyways.

Another one of those phrases came up again, one that he did not fully comprehend. Fuel to a fire? It took him a little bit to figure that out, meaning that he was the fire, or was he the fuel? English had a funny way of using words literally and metaphorically. German metaphors were much less imaginative, unless you want to count Franz Kafka and the bug 'Gregor'. "Ya, ve'll wipe them out quickly," he said, his accent a bit heavier because of how he used some German before he translated again. Why was it that wars were always fought between people who did not speak the same language? Well, maybe America had a good advantage there because most people spoke English, even if they were European.