Wind4Wolf

Inhaling the romanticized illness of the vaguely gloomy streets of Munich, the atmosphere was relieving. For once there wasn't a race to a whorehouse orgy, no pestering men in variant tux's with camera's pressed tightly to their chests. No lovestruck woman draping over his small frame(which he often obligated them), a breath of fresh air knowing he didn't have to dance with a microphone and spin many untruthful tales to thousands of faceless citizens and Reich officials of variant ranks. Grinning ever so slightly, the only thing that'd make his night even better is if he was with the one he adored most. Though the ever present fact that they