The Bismarck Survivor

Chapter 6 - It's a Date!

Total word count: 4377 words.

Karl knocked on the articulate wooden door leading into Bismarck's office, just about a week and a half after the accident. His right cheek had a very noticeable streak of stitches down to the jaw just to under his ear. It wasn't too deep, but he had to be careful when speaking lest he open it up again. He let out a bit of a sigh as he awaited Bismarck to answer, which she did.

The knob to the door turned and the door itself opened, revealing Bismarck who of course looked down upon the relatively short Karl. She gave a warm smile.

She was wearing decently more casual clothing in the form of a black pencil skirt that wrapped quite nicely around her thighs, stopping right above her knees. For her top it was a somewhat beige-white sweater which covered her up well, though it didn't actively inhibit the view of her body, with curves overall in her outfit still plenty visible. On top of all of this she had her light blond hair in a ponytail and she even had a pair of what Karl guessed were reading glasses on. It reminded him of something near a 40 year old good looking school teacher, and due to his very vast set of tastes, this wasn't a bad thing by any measure.

"Ah, Bismarck. I like your attire." Karl commented and Bismarck chuckled, thanking him for the compliment and allowing him inside.

It was a decent sized room, about 20 by 20 feet in dimensions. In front of the door was a grey rug with the Ironblood insignia stamped upon it in white, which lead to the other side of the room with Bismarck's large wooden desk and office chair. There was a typewriter, a phone, some pens and pencils, and plenty of stacks of paper galore. Behind that on the wall were two windows on either side of the desk which were covered with dark red curtains which gave a dull, reddish light during the day. It wasn't too noticeable but it was certainly there. Along with this there were various Ironblood decorations, and what caught Karl's eye was a shelf of medals on the wall to his right alongside a piano which obviously was not in use. The shelf had various insignias and awards, with eagles and swastika's galore. So it was good to know the National Socialist branding was not completely phased out.

There was also a door on the left wall beside an Ironblood flag and bookshelf. Nothing much, probably leading to her bedroom.

"This is my humble abode, Kommandant." Bismarck said, smiling and standing back into the room, leaning near her desk. Karl's eyes widened a bit in curiosity as he surveyed the room, piquing his interest.

"I see. Very nice place, well decorated. Patriotic." Karl wasn't too sure what to say, but was certainly impressed.

"Patriotic, yes. One way to put it. You should see Roon's room sometime, it is filled with Nationalist imagery all around."

"Is that so?" Karl asked, looking back to Bismarck from the shelf of medals he was eyeing.

"Yes, yes. She holds true the values of the Fuhrer to heart."

"Good."

Karl looked around for somewhere to sit, and Bismarck, realizing this, yelped in realization. "Oh! I forgot to get you a chair!" She said, smacking her head to embolden the fact she did an oopsie. "Let me go grab one real fast."

"Go ahead, please. I'd appreciate it." Karl earnestly said, sitting down in Bismarck's office chair. Damn, that was comfortable. Bismarck apologized and like a mother who had forgotten to go grab something from the store patiently rushed out. Karl chuckled, realizing this girl behind her hardened persona of the co-commander was quite the nice lady. Very enjoyable to be around so far in this type of informal setting, unlike the other times they had met up.

During those types of formal meetings, Bismarck was always sitting or standing with good posture, a poker face strewn upon her, though obviously a bit tired which was noticeable in her eyes. She spoke clearly and concisely which was a good thing, especially in a military setting, but he also looked forward to how she was in private. He had seen glimpses, especially in the morning where Bismarck might say 'Mornin', Kommandant' instead of 'Greetings, Kommandant', especially if he caught her before her coffee.