Dempsey had been in the middle of explaining rather loudly to one of the undead exactly why it was coming to the fate it was when he noticed Takeo standing near him, studying him with amusement. Ending the once-human creature with the pull of a trigger, he grinned at the man. "'Sup, Tak?"

"Hello."

"Doc with you?"

"He lingered behind to insult our Russian friend."

Tank nodded, and at that moment the pair heard an enraged roar from the dressing room. Takeo readied his gun and jogged up the stairs to the stage, assuring the American that he would take care of it. Having nothing to do with no other zombies around, Dempsey absent-mindedly strolled over to the Juggernog machine, listening for the umpteenth time to the jingle that it played. God, even hearing some chick's pre-recorded voice singing some lame song was enough to take at least part of his mind out of this hell.

How long had it been since he had even seen a woman, anyway? Too long, that's for sure.

"The doctor had returned to cause more pain!" Richtofen's voice echoed through the hall that led from that lobby to the theater, drowning out the Jugger-girl's cheerful tune and the marine's daydreaming.

Dempsey groaned inwardly and moved farther from the stairs, closer to the sweet voice that sang from the machine. When he glanced over towards the doorway, again, he almost shouted when he noticed the German standing mere yards away, one eyebrow raised in what could have been annoyance or amusement.

"Hallo, Dempsey. In one piece, I see." There was a note of disappointment in the man's voice, but it sounded faked to the marine. He's trying to get on my nerves again.

"Yeah, no thanks to you. Princess was busy moping in her tower, huh?"

Richtofen didn't seem the least bit offended by the taunt; he only grinned slyly and took a step closer. Dempsey didn't feel threatened—not anymore. At first the sound of the Nazi's voice put him absolutely on edge, of course, the man was crazy.

But by now he had grown used to his antics, and he met the stare with one of his own. He wasn't much taller than the doctor, but the fraction of an inch that he did have on him seemed to increase as their glares clashed.

"What? You just gonna stare at me all day, Doc?" Dempsey inquired, and with of a smirk of his own, "I don't blame you. And after trying to molest me in the projector room—"

Richtofen scoffed, "Still bothered, Dempsey?" He took another small step forward. Suddenly, the height difference didn't mean very much.

Dempsey tried at a sarcastic tone of voice, but it was obvious that he was a little intimidated. The look the Nazi was giving him was creepy, to say the least. "Who wouldn't be bothered by your dirty Nazi hands?"

Richtofen chuckled as if Dempsey had told a particularly good joke, and brought up a gloved hand, studying it.

"Dirty, you say?" Before Dempsey could notice, the doctor brought the open hand up to the marine's face and pressed his knuckles lightly against his cheek, running them gently down his face in a mock-romantic way. Dempsey slapped the hand away and his eyes darted to the stage, expecting to see Takeo staring with a look of confusion, maybe disgust. But no, by the sound of battle cries and Japanese swears floating faintly from the dressing room Takeo was still fighting.

"Don't touch me."

"I refuse to take orders from some over-confident American," the Nazi hissed, his anger hardly concealed; his hands shook and he spoke though clenched teeth, "Particularly you."

Dempsey opened his mouth to say something in return, but the annoyance on his face turned to shock as Richtofen put his hand around his throat and pushed, slamming him into the hard metal of the juggernog machine. Dempsey let out a strangled cry of pain, and both of his hands darted up to wrench the Nazi off of him. This caused the Richtofen's free arm to pin his torso, forcing his arms to his sides.

He didn't even smile—he just kept his look of contempt. Usually, this would be enough to satisfy him; to keep him assured that the marine had gotten what he deserved. Now, though, he decided that a little shove wouldn't be enough to keep his annoying American mouth shut to the doctor's liking.

"Hurts, Tank?" Richtofen spit out the other man's name like something horrible. "Das ist gut. I'm only beginning. And what I'll do to you ranges very far out of the typical stupid military violence you're used to."

A smirk formed on the German's face as he observed Dempsey's expression, which was now slightly touched with fear. His grey-blue eyes were widened, and his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.

"Poor little Dempsey, afraid of the doctor…" Even through his gloves, the Nazi could feel a muscle twitch in the marine's neck as what he said struck home.

After a moment, Richtofen grew bored of this and brought his hand to his side. Upon being released, Dempsey drew in a panicked breath as if he was being suffocated, his own fingers brushing against his throat, examining for damage. The green eyes still glared into the grey, and it stayed like that for a good two minutes.

Finally the silence was broken. "Fuckin' freak…"

The words were hoarse and hollow, almost meaningless. Dempsey did not try to punctuate the insult with his fists, as the German had expected. He only shuddered, moved his eyes to the stage, and started to walk away, careful not to touch the doctor as he moved around him.

What was this? No rant? No attack? No childish show of valor? Richtofen narrowed his eyes as he watched the American climb the stairs to the stage, greeting Takeo, who was exiting the dressing room at just the same time.

"Did I break him? Already?" the doctor questioned, going into a sudden fit of laughter, laughter that resounded off the bloody walls, laughter loud enough to wake the dead. Takeo looked alarmed and glanced over, but Dempsey quickly drew his friend's attention back to himself, punching him lightly on the arm and continuing whatever conversation they had been having.

"H…He's not broken," Richtofen murmured to himself as he caught his breath, "Not yet. He's pretending. …How cute."