fic: pinpricks
pinpricks
inglourious basterds shoshanna, landa (shoshanna/landa) pg-13
there’s a voice that will always echo au revoir.
There’s a voice that will always echo au revoir.
She doesn’t look up when he enters the coffee shop. “Mademoiselle Mimieux.”
(au revoir, shoshanna, it goes.)
“Colonel Landa.”
He pulls up a chair, smiles with his teeth. She does not look up.
“A good book?” He says, slowly. It’s measured, like it always is, and Shoshanna wonders how much it would take for him to break.
She shrugs, “It depends.”
“On what?”
“On how you define a good book.” She looks up. Her mouth is dry.
“Naturally,” he inclines his head slightly. “A good book,” he pauses, letting her mark her page, “a good book is well, very much like a good film. It should be complex. It should make you think. And, most importantly, it should make you laugh.”
She nods, “Then, yes, it is a good book.” He studies her for a moment, watching the bob of her neck as she sips her wine. “I thought Nazi’s burned books,” she says absently.
“Only bad ones.”
“Bad books or bad Nazi’s?”
Landa laughs. “Very good, Mademoiselle, very good.”
She smiles too quickly.
Around the corner he stops to buy tobacco. The shopkeeper’s name is Charlotte.
She blanches.
Landa turns around, slipping the tobacco into the pocket of his jacket, “Are you alright, Mademoiselle?”
“Oui, oui.” She’s breathless.
(this is when he knows. au revoir, it goes)
The cinema’s busy. She avoids his gaze.
He finds her in her office. He does not knock.
“Mademoiselle.”
“Colonel?”
Landa locks the door behind him, pocketing the key (shoshanna does not notice this). He pours two glasses of wine, sips one and hands her the other. Shoshanna sets it down on the desk.
“Colonel?” She repeats, quieter this time, her eyes wider.
He takes another sip. His eyes never leave hers. “It would appear, Mademoiselle, that you have not been entirely truthful with me.”
Shoshanna does not blink. “What do you mean, Colonel?”
“You’re a clever girl, Shoshanna, very clever.”
There is nowhere to run.
Her breath hitches when he kisses her, hard, eyelids fluttering closed despite herself. She’s still tense, though, and she shivers when his fingertips brush across her waist.
She slaps him, hard, when he pulls back.
The mark on his cheek is the same crimson as her dress. He looks at her and he smiles, chuckling gently.
“I can see what Private Zoller sees in you, Mademoiselle Dreyfus.”
“And what would that be, Colonel?”
“You are, in many respects, very similar to a good book.”
“Meaning?”
“You intrigue him, Mademoiselle.”
She snorts and cocks an eyebrow.
“The feeling is not mutual?”
She shakes her head, and he grins slightly.
When he kisses her again she’s quicker to push him away, murmuring no against his lips.
“I’m not the kind of person you say no to, Shoshanna.”
He moves closer. “I know,” she whispers.
The gun’s cold and heavy in her hand.
Her breath’s still ragged, eyes dark and wide, but the gun pressed to his ribs is steady and still. When he finally meets her gaze, there’s a flicker of fear behind his eyes.
“Do that, and you become no better than me.”
She leans forward and almost laughs, her lips grazing his ear.
“Au revoir, Colonel Landa.”
end.
inglourious basterds shoshanna, landa (shoshanna/landa) pg-13
there’s a voice that will always echo au revoir.
There’s a voice that will always echo au revoir.
She doesn’t look up when he enters the coffee shop. “Mademoiselle Mimieux.”
(au revoir, shoshanna, it goes.)
“Colonel Landa.”
He pulls up a chair, smiles with his teeth. She does not look up.
“A good book?” He says, slowly. It’s measured, like it always is, and Shoshanna wonders how much it would take for him to break.
She shrugs, “It depends.”
“On what?”
“On how you define a good book.” She looks up. Her mouth is dry.
“Naturally,” he inclines his head slightly. “A good book,” he pauses, letting her mark her page, “a good book is well, very much like a good film. It should be complex. It should make you think. And, most importantly, it should make you laugh.”
She nods, “Then, yes, it is a good book.” He studies her for a moment, watching the bob of her neck as she sips her wine. “I thought Nazi’s burned books,” she says absently.
“Only bad ones.”
“Bad books or bad Nazi’s?”
Landa laughs. “Very good, Mademoiselle, very good.”
She smiles too quickly.
Around the corner he stops to buy tobacco. The shopkeeper’s name is Charlotte.
She blanches.
Landa turns around, slipping the tobacco into the pocket of his jacket, “Are you alright, Mademoiselle?”
“Oui, oui.” She’s breathless.
(this is when he knows. au revoir, it goes)
The cinema’s busy. She avoids his gaze.
He finds her in her office. He does not knock.
“Mademoiselle.”
“Colonel?”
Landa locks the door behind him, pocketing the key (shoshanna does not notice this). He pours two glasses of wine, sips one and hands her the other. Shoshanna sets it down on the desk.
“Colonel?” She repeats, quieter this time, her eyes wider.
He takes another sip. His eyes never leave hers. “It would appear, Mademoiselle, that you have not been entirely truthful with me.”
Shoshanna does not blink. “What do you mean, Colonel?”
“You’re a clever girl, Shoshanna, very clever.”
There is nowhere to run.
Her breath hitches when he kisses her, hard, eyelids fluttering closed despite herself. She’s still tense, though, and she shivers when his fingertips brush across her waist.
She slaps him, hard, when he pulls back.
The mark on his cheek is the same crimson as her dress. He looks at her and he smiles, chuckling gently.
“I can see what Private Zoller sees in you, Mademoiselle Dreyfus.”
“And what would that be, Colonel?”
“You are, in many respects, very similar to a good book.”
“Meaning?”
“You intrigue him, Mademoiselle.”
She snorts and cocks an eyebrow.
“The feeling is not mutual?”
She shakes her head, and he grins slightly.
When he kisses her again she’s quicker to push him away, murmuring no against his lips.
“I’m not the kind of person you say no to, Shoshanna.”
He moves closer. “I know,” she whispers.
The gun’s cold and heavy in her hand.
Her breath’s still ragged, eyes dark and wide, but the gun pressed to his ribs is steady and still. When he finally meets her gaze, there’s a flicker of fear behind his eyes.
“Do that, and you become no better than me.”
She leans forward and almost laughs, her lips grazing his ear.
“Au revoir, Colonel Landa.”
end.