"Congratulations on your marriage," says Reuenthal, tipping another thumb-width of military wine into his glass.
He sets the drink forwards on the wooden table wherefrom Mittermeyer picks it up with calm surprise.
"A bit late for that, isn't it?"
"Well, do you really want to drink to a dead man?"
Mittermeyer's smile doesn't fade in the dimmed lighting of the room. He takes a sip, tongue tracing the moistened corners of his mouth afterwards, and leans forward some more.
Bracing his arms against his thighs. The bell-shaped glass is held by the crook of a finger round its neck, and Reuenthal politely looks away instead of following its movements.
Just for a moment.
"Two dead men, if Lohengramm doesn't start eating his dinners." The uniform bunches and smoothes at his shoulders as he takes a deeper sip this time.
Wine disappears with a soft move of his throat, and as he turns his face upwards, back arching slightly, a five o'clock is suddenly visible at the edge of his chin.
"He's crossed the rainbow bridge instead of sunk beneath it, that's something to celebrate."
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