Lettie347: After a brief moment of consideration, he gave a slight nod.
"I believe a drink would be a rather welcome thing, yes." He eyes the filmmaker again, unable to shake the feeling that he looks terribly familiar. It's almost staring.
conservegirl: Mark smiles, rubbing the bandage on one of his palms. "What specifically would you like? I was about to go get a refill on my tea myself." Mark as well is thinking there's something familiar about the man he's speaking to, but he can't place it. Not just yet.
Lettie347: Schindler's memory, to be fair, is probably much more recent than Mark's. He blinks, thinking. "Anything with a high alcohol content, if you please." Oskar Schindler was a womanizer and a drunk. With the arrival of his divorce, he is likely to become only the latter.
"But..." He trails off, hand waving vaguely. "I must ask you a question first, I am afraid."
conservegirl: "Really, coming here for the first time does rather warrant a strong drink." He smiles, but trails off, with a bit of a confused shrug. "Oh, sure. Ask away."
Lettie347: A smirk. "I should think so." But then there is a thoughtful pause. "Are you related to ... ? A cousin, or a sister..?" It doesn't occur to him in his mind (at the moment, at least) that Mark is from a different time than her.
conservegirl: Mark blinks for a moment, and then it hits him like a ton of bricks. Biting his lip, he nods, then looks the man in the eyes. "She was my grandmother." He pauses. "That probably doesn't make any sense to you, so perhaps I can explain. This bar brings people from all places and all times. I am from, well, about sixty or so years in your future, most likely." He trails off, fiddling with the bandage on his hand again. He has -no- clue how to say what he wants to.
Lettie347: "You have her eyes." It is more of a statement than a compliment, but hey. At least he's trying. His brow lofts while Mark speaks, however. "Other ... times, you say. Well, that is rather odd indeed." He watches Mark fiddle with the bandage, half-wondering if he should make some sort of attempt at apology or ... something. Instead, he simply coughs. Yes, that's helpful.
conservegirl: Mark blinks for a moment, biting his lip again. There probably was very little that Schindler could have said that would have meant more to Mark. Eyes are the soul of a filmmaker, and to this boy, who always almost hero-worshipped his grandmother, it was as if he was just given the world. A smile crosses his face, but he doesn't mention anything for the moment. He does, however, hold out a handadged hand. "Er, I probably should actually introduce myself. I'm Mark Cohen."
Lettie347: "Ah, of course." He thinks that if this boy is related to her, it is safe for him to give his full name. "Oskar Schindler. A pleasure to meet you, Mark Cohen." He shakes firmly as possible while still being mindful of the bandage on Mark's hand. "I perhaps should have introduced myself earlier as well, but this entire ordeal has proven itself distracting to my manners."
conservegirl: "Arriving here would really mess with anyone's manners, sir.. It's a pleasure to meet you as well. My grandmother always spoke quite highly of you." A rather odd look crosses his face, but he shrugs it off. It might be slightly odd that in a situation where Mark should be flailing, he's simply quietly awkward.
Lettie347: He fiddles with the ring around his finger quietly for a moment. It replaced his wedding band long ago, really. "That is fortunate. She always was a very sweet young woman. And a hard worker, as well." It's possible that she was married in the factory -- he did have several marriages, but that part of his memory is foggy at best.
conservegirl: "I always admired her. She had a quiet determination about her. She didn't let people put her down or get to her because of who she was." He cracks a smile. "One of the greatest compliments I ever got was when she told me I reminded her of herself when she was young."
Lettie347: "From what I've seen, that is entirely possible." His own smile is perhaps a little more fleeting. He remembers just what he traded for her, for every person on that list. If only he'd .. done more. "I can only be glad that there were many like her." That survived.
conservegirl: There's a pause, and a fiddle at the bandage before Mark speaks. "Thank you, sir." That almost idle comment means more to Mark than any gold statue ever. "I think we can all be glad for that." He really does mean that in the best way possible. "So, can I get you that drink now, and perhaps we can talk not standing up?"
Lettie347: And he laughs a moment later. "Ah, of course. How absent-minded I must be to forget a drink." His brow furrows, however. "Do at least call me Oskar. Or Schindler." 'Sir' and 'Herr' always sounded so ... ominous.
conservegirl: "I can certainly do that." He points to his table, where his camera is still sitting, along with his notebook. "I'll go grab something to drink, and will be back in a moment. Have a seat, if you'd like." He wanders over to Bar, getting a strong drink for Schindler, and a strong tea for himself, returning and handing the drink to the other man. "There you are." Mark doesn't skimp on his drinks. The one Schindler has is probably one of the best the bar has to offer.
Lettie347: Schindler is at least vaguely aware of this. "Ah, thank you." He does take a seat with the camera and eyes it curiously, wondering perhaps what is on the reel. It looks ... old. After a tip of his drink towards Mark, he downs a good portion of it but has the sense to at least not drink it all at once. Not to say that he couldn't, however. "Tell me ... where did your grandmother go, after Brinnlitz?"
conservegirl: Mark has never been one for changing a good thing. Thus the reason his camera is more than three times his age. He takes a sip of his tea then smiles. "She moved to America, when she found out that her husband and all the rest of her family had died." He pauses for a moment, then goes on. "She re-married not long after she arrived in New York, and had my mother. They moved out of New York City to a suburb called Scarsdale, where she lived for the rest of her life."
Lettie347: He looks upset over this for a moment -- moreso the fact that they'd all died. He had always held out hope, although he'd told them -- tomorrow you will go looking for the rest of your family. The majority of you will not find them -- that they wouldn't find them. He takes another sip of the drink, a longer one this time. "It is good that she re-married. Children are important."
conservegirl: "She did well for herself." Really well, if Mark's memory serves. He pauses, looking thoughtful for a long moment. "Sometimes, as shitty as things are, they happen for a reason." He chooses his words carefully. He's not making excuses, just attempting to move on. "It does suck watching one's family die, though." This said with the tone of someone who has. And wishes he hadn't.
Lettie347: "There are many types of deaths." If the divorce papers in front of him mean anything, of course. Deserted by his wife, his accountant, his mistress - by extension of his wife, in a way- he was, for all apparent devices, alone. Although Oskar finds his word choice a bit peculiar, he chocks it up to the fact that Mark is from a different time than himself.
conservegirl: "There are. Even if it is not a physical death, it can be really similar." Even sometimes knowing that someone is going to die can be painful, as Mark knows perhaps a bit too well. Roger said it best once to Mark. For someone who longs for a community of his own, who's with his camera, alone? He smiles a bit oddly.
Lettie347: His own smile is perhaps just as odd. Mark seems like someone who can understand, and that is ... something that should be looked after, in Oskar Schindler's world. Brotherhood -- any sort of relationship with a person who understands - was something that he had not had in a long time. The closest he had come was Goeth, and Goeth was certainly no brother of his. He hated him, but he had needed him.
conservegirl: Mark's not usually one to discuss his personal life. But every so often, someone comes along who understands, who knows what it's like to lose people, not just immidiately, but watch them fade until there is nothing left. Swallowing, he makes an attempt at explanation. "In my time, there is a disease called AIDS. It is basically a death sentance to those who get it. My best friend died from that about a year ago, and three of my five other friends, inclusing one person I consider my brother have it." He pauses. "Watching someone die is really the worst thing ever."
Lettie347: He nods. "It is something that one does not get used to." Which was not to say that he hadn't seen countless killed. Goeth, the dogs... the worst part was the dogs, he was sure. There is something horrifying about watching them tear flesh from flesh until movement stopped. A little girl, the red coat in the pile of liquidated bodies.."I am sorry for your friends, Mark." There is little, he thinks, that he can tell the young man to make it better.
conservegirl: "It's just something that I have to live with, unfortunately." Mark bites his lip and shrugs a tiny bit. "I hate it, but really, life's like that. I've found that all I can do sometimes is just be there for the people I care about, and do what I can to help them."
Lettie347: "You," He announces, taking a last drink from his glass, "Are a very clever young man to have figured this out at your age." Perhaps if he had figured such things out, he would have saved more people. But he can't think on that too long or he starts staring at his gun barrel.
conservegirl: Mark turns vaguely pink about the ears. "Er, thanks. A couple people have tried to tell me that, but, well, I don't feel all that clever most of the time. I just do what I can." He looks a bit wistful however. He's always wondering what would have happened if he could have done more for Angel, if he could have somehow made things better for his friend.
Lettie347: It is a feeling, Oskar would tell Mark if he could, that does not ever quite disappear. If he had only sold the car, the pin .. eleven more people. He could have had eleven more. The pinkness amuses him, however, and he gives a slight laugh towards Mark before he leans forward, conspiratorally deciding this is the best time to tell Mark this. "Your grandmother, you know, was a very attractive young woman. Why, I was put into prison on my birthday because of her."
conservegirl: Mark actually chuckles a bit at that. "She told me that story many times, actually. It was always something she felt a bit guilty about." He pauses, and cracks a smile. "But then again, she would remind us that you picked her out of all that girls there to single out. Or, well, that's how she liked to tell it."
Lettie347: He laughs good-naturedly. "Yes, I suppose so. It was far from her fault, though. I nearly startled her out of her wits, I think. In front of all the SS." His grin fades a bit at that memory. She'd looked terrified, but ... at least the story was good for her, later on. "She was very pretty, you must understand."
conservegirl: "It was more than likely one of those moments that was more amusing later on than it was at the moment." He laughs as well. "I have had more than a few of those myself." Like a certain Life Support meeting that he rather loudly crashed. "I have always thought she was a beautiful woman from the pictures I saw. And even when she was older."
Lettie347: A slight nod. "I cannot see her aging anything but beautifully, you see." Most of the women at the factory had been beautiful. He'd shared his bed with many of them - not the married ones, out of respect for them. But others, particularly the women in their early 20s. It didn't make him a bad man. He never forced them -- no, he was not like that. "And yes, I suppose that it might have been."
conservegirl: "There are just some people who, no matter how old they become, will always be beautiful." A certain actress comes to Mark's mind with a bit of an accompanying smile. Yes, he'll always find Maureen lovely, as insane as that might be. Angel too, really. But, then again, Angel will never get older, due to the bar. Strange, to have one's best friend preserved in such a way.
Lettie347: Very strange indeed. Having Stern preserved like that -- not that he'd ever admit that Stern was his best friend -- would surely have boggled his mind. "I think perhaps that you are right." He nods, eyeing the empty drink ruefully and ordering a refill to be put on his tab from the nearby waitrat. He has had just enough alcohol that the fact his waiter is a rat does not bother him.
conservegirl: Mark signals the rat as well, but it brings him an alcoholic beverage this time, which he sips a bit thoughtfully. "I guess I'm used to that perhaps a bit too much. Most of what I do is preserving certain moments in time, certain images so that they can be seen again and again as they were."
Lettie347: He arches an amused brow. "Perhaps. But the mind does the same thing, often." Night. Packing up, changing into the uniforms. Dropping the ring because his hands had been shaking so badly...
conservegirl: Mark chuckles. "Sometimes the mind's even clearer than film." Single frames of one magic night forever flicker in close-up on the three-D Imax of my mind.
Lettie347: "Very true." He sips the drink that the rat gives him perhaps a bit too intently.
conservegirl: Mark sips his drink as well, lapsing into his usual bit of awkward. Strange how comfortable that feels sometimes.
Lettie347: Oskar is accustomed to long silences. So it does not bother him much when Mark slips into quiet.
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