Klink was one to rarely lose his head. He may be nervous or caring at times, even frustrated. But, only rarely does the German blow up about anything. But, when he does, he makes quite the scene.
“Was meinst du damit, du hättest es mir nicht früher erzählen wollen?” he demanded, nearly yelling into the phone. “Vor vier Monaten?? An diesem Punkt hättest du schon nach dem Krieg warten müssen, um es mir zu sagen!” Not wanting to hear his brother’s voice anymore, he slammed down his phone.
He didn’t know how to react. For a moment, he just stared at his desk. Then, as if something in him snapped, he was clearing his desk. He was throwing things, ripping papers, and smashing anything else. If anything backfired, Wilhelm couldn’t feel it. Physically, he was numb. Emotionally, he was shattered. It wasn’t until his desk was empty that he collapsed back into his chair, hid his face behind his arms on the desk, and melted into sobs that shook his whole body.
If he took a moment to look up, he might of saw Pierre in his office door.
Pierre had asked to see the Kommandant, he hadn’t just turned up and barged in. He had been rasied better than to do that, even to an enemy. Although he held Colonel Klink in low regard he knew when it was useful to show respect - like when he wanted information from the camp Kommandant. The secretary had told him to just knock and go in, it wasn’t his fault.
So he now stood with wide eyes and certainl speechless at the sight of the German losing his temper and letting it out on everything within reach. “I...” he stammered, wanting to take a step back but somehow finding himsefl still frozen on the spot. “Colonel...?” This was none of his business, why was he sticking his nose into it?
