Juliet grinned at her older brother and took him in. He was still in his uniform, and the thought made Julietta's skin itch and burn. A slight breeze whipped around her and sent a damp lock flying into her eyes, which, using the tip of the dagger, she gently pushed away. Her blue eyes were curious and quizzical as she watched the other, now on his knees.

"But just because we are not coldblooded, doesn't mean we can't hurt you. It's a choice. Everything is a choice now. Unfortunately for you, it seems like you've made quite a few wrong choices. Maybe you'll be given the chance to make the right one, maybe not," she said, and though her words would sound quite cruel coming from someone else, they were not completely toxic.

"Und why would we come to an agreement with you. What do you have to offer," she asked, but she seemed mildly interested. Then again, Juliet had often been told that she could get awards for acting. Half of the time it seemed like she was sincere, half the time it seemed like she was playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and she was always the cat. Though, even though no one knew it, one wouldn't expect any different of her. Not after those men. Not after that night.

For a second her breath caught in her throat like she was choking, and she had to force herself from touching her hip bone, where a long and raised scar stretched from the far left side of her rib cage and to the very bottom farther side of her left hip bone. Instead she cleared her throat once and aimed the rifle at the Nazi, the dagger still clutched in her other hand.

Juliet's small bare feet shifted on the ground, finding better balance for her long legs and lithe body. Her eyes not once left those of the Nazi's, but now she didn't speak. She'd let her eyes do the talking. He hadn't yet told her his name, and she was both angered and impressed by this. He could bargain with information, and that much impressed her. Most of the Nazi's they had captured had sputtered out everything they knew within the first second of feeling her knife or Jenna's pistol. This also angered her, because not knowing made her vulnerable and that was one thing she would not have.

A twig snapped not too far away and Juliet's shoulder tensed. Her thigh muscles tensed as if she was about to spring, but for the moment she stayed rooted to the spot. "The woods are no longer safe. We must go back to camp," she said simply, and her eyes finally left the Nazi's, and she looked over Jenna's shoulder. She could see a few flickers of flames, occasionally darkened as shadows danced over them. She could see long lengths of hair flowing as the Gypsy women danced, eyes covered by dark masks of animals.

Demetri stayed silent as he leaned against the tree trunk. He often did more listening than he did talking, more thinking than ordering. He liked to be seen but not always heard, for when he was heard people listened more intently, sunk in the meaning of his words more easily.

He watched the body language of the three others. The man opposite him was now on his knees, and though he didn't look pleased he also didn't look like he was going to attack. Jenna seemed angry, as she almost always did, but her eyes seemed to soften when she glanced at Demetri. Juliet's body tensed involuntarily, and Demetri's brow furrowed. She hadn't been the same for the past two months. She was more business around the others, except for at the nightly fire dances. When she wasn't planning with the Rebel crew she was often alone and not to be bothered.

"Ja, as are many new ones. It's sad really," he said and shook his head, and his words were truly sincere. It seemed no matter how many Nazis fell, or how many turned to the Rebel side, more and more were recruited for the greater evil. More seemed eager to kill, to prove themselves. But to prove what, Demetri wondered. To prove they could be heartless? To prove they could end a life, a human life, without so much as blinking? Demetri's stomach twisted into uncomfortable knots.

At Juliet's comment of the woods, Demetri cracked his knuckles and glanced about. Every shadow was a demon waiting to escape. Every snap of a turning leaf was a killer's foot step, drawing ever so closer to the small group of four. "There's someone over there. I'll check it out. Don't let him out of your sight," he said and nodded to the two females politely, and with the turn of his heel he was gone.

Demetri's agile body moved easily, his muscles actually adding to his smooth movements. A breeze tousled a lock of his wavy blonde hair, tan skin paling in the moonlight. He saw brown locks moving, baggy clothes shifting effortlessly ahead of him. He ducked behind a tree, animal instincts not trusting anything.

He watched the woman for at least five minutes, surveying her body language, her movements, and the emotion on her face. He had learned early on that if you wanted a better hand, you had to work for it, but with patience. The girl walked into an alley, back to a nearby home, and Demetri grimaced. It was her first mistake, and had he been a tad less of a man than he was, he would have used that to his advantage to attack.

"It's not safe here," he said, but put his hands up in a mock surrender to her, letting her know he wouldn't attack. "I won't hurt you. I'm a Rebel," he added, but he knew her eyes were taking in his uniform, the patches of ranking on his chest and that dreaded symbol around his arm.

"I'm a spy. There's a nearby camp, if you'd like me to take you. I won't make you go," his words were even and full of poise and confidence, but of also a gentler nature. He wouldn't make her do anything she didn't want to do.
((Sorry it kinda sucks you guys. I've had a lot going on so I haven't been able to post. I hope you are all still active.))

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