Eliza's POV:

I couldn't stop thinking about my home as I swept the floors before Mr. Richtofen arrived. I wondered what Tank was doing. It had been years since I had seen my best friend. Even before I left for France, it had been at least four years. The only thing I knew was that he had enlisted with the U.S Marines. I nearly whimpered at the thought of my mother, who had died from an unknown illness a few years back. Her hair had turned white, her bones feeble, and her skin shriveled away like the petals of an old rose. She had been my rock, the only one I could lean on. I knew that she was watching over me from Heaven. But I wasn't sure she was proud. 

My thoughts were shattered by the turning of the knob on the front door. I glanced quickly at the time. Six o'clock, time for Mr. Richtofen to be home. Suddenly. The door creaked open, letting in a gust of cool autumn wind. In the doorway stood a very tired looking Mr. Richtofen, suitcase in hand. I cleared my thoughts and leaned the broom against the wall, making my way to him.

"Good evening, Eliza," he greeted as he stepped through the doorframe. He gave a little nod and smiled before removing his coat and hanging it upon the coat rack.

"Good evening, Mr. Richtofen," I replied, giving a vague curtsy. I made my way towards the kitchen, noticing that Mr. Richtofen had pulled out some sort of blue paper, and slowly sauntered behind me with his face buried in the document. As I washed my hands, he found a seat at the kitchen table and studied the sheet.

"What would you like for dinner tonight, sir?" I asked rather sheepishly, trying not to interrupt his work. I studied his distinct facial features as he looked piercingly at the blue paper. His chiseled chin rested in his hand, his forefinger barely gracing his thick lips. His jawline was prominent, and his nose was like a curved triangle. Just under his nose sat a black, fuzzy, mustache that rimmed his upper lip. I regretfully allowed my eyes to travel further, eventually gazing deep into his greenish hazel eyes, though they were not looking at me. From the way his eyes moved, I figured he was reading something. His black hair was shaved neatly around his ears, and got thicker on top of his head, ultimately resulting in a little whip of hair that hung on his forehead. He looked up at me unexpectedly, causing me to jerk my eyes away and blush a little.

"Whatever you decide to fix, I know it will be great. Please, surprise me." His compliment only added to my embarrassment, so I quickly turned around and began to perform my duties.

“Of course, sir.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him put the paper down, as if in deep thought. His face twisted a bit, as though something was troubling him.

“Eliza?” He asked, glancing at me.

“Yes sir?” I replied, giving my attention to him.

“....... Nevermind," He looked away, shaking his head and continuing his work. A light blush formed on my cheeks, and I continued my work. It bugged me that I could not know what was on his mind. It was as if he had altogether forgotten what he had been saying, or perhaps he could not find the words to describe what was on his mind.

Richtofen's POV:

I tried to keep my thoughts away from Eliza as I studied the blueprint that I'd taken from the lab at work today. The blueprints were for the so called, "Ray Gun," and they fascinated me so. There was an energy conduit, unlike any i had seen before. It seemed to run on some sort of liquid, but I there was no inscription to describe it.

I allowed my eyes to find Eliza, regretfully losing my focus on work. She was slaving over the stove, fixing what looked to be some sort of meat. Steam rolled from the pan like the ornery waves of the cascading ocean, bouncing against the jagged rocks of the shoreline. Already my stomach had begun to growl, although lunch today was filling. Somehow, Eliza seemed different. She didn't glow as she had the day before, something seemed to be bothering her. Before I found the guts to ask her what it was, she had gently set down a plate, brimming with what I assumed were American delicacies.

"Steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, and corn, sir," said Eliza as she gave a forced smile. Suddenly I began to see how unhappy she was in this environment. I found myself wondering why it was her choice to be here, serving me.

 "Danke, Eliza," I spoke in my native tongue, thanking her for her efforts. She nodded and continued on her way, tidying the kitchen to fit its former cleanliness. As I began to eat, I noticed that there was only enough food for one, and Eliza had not prepared any for herself. Though the food was exemplary, it was not enough to tear me away from the question that was eating at me.

"Eliza," I began nervously, "What do you eat?"

She stopped her work for a split second, as if to think, then continued. "I have my own personal rations, Mr. Richtofen..." She trailed off in her words, "Servants are not permitted to eat alongside their masters."

This answer puzzled me so. Whoever came up with this ridiculous set of regulations obviously had their mind set on one thing. I did not see a point in such rules, but so be it.

"If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll be going now," she spoke in an asking kind of way.

"You are excused, Eliza," I said, dismissing her. She nodded and thanked me, walking into the main room and disappearing up the stairs.

The servant stayed on my mind all through dinner.

That night I was reading about the current German weaponry in my quarters when I heard a knock at my door.

"With your consent, sir, I shall retire now," Eliza spoke softly, giving a curtsy and awaiting my answer.

"Of course, Eliza... you are welcome to go to bed," I felt odd saying this, as one does not typically tell someone they are allowed to rest. I watched her as she silently tread back down the hallway, towards the attic stairs. My brow twisted into a confused expression, as Eliza's small frame never returned to the hallway. It seemed that she slept in the attic, away from all life, and away from me.

The fact that Eliza was so shut away from the world bothered me so. The idea of carrying on as she did intimidated me. I could tell from insight and my own experience that she was hiding something, perhaps deep and dark. I lay down in my usually heavenly bed, but it did not seem as such tonight.

No matter how hard I tried to push her from my memory, I couldn't. Desperately I longed for sleep, but it hardly came. Six in the morning came all to fast that day.