O is for Oblige
"To constrain by physical, moral, or legal forces or by the exigencies of circumstances; to put in one's debt by a favor or service; to do a favor for; to do something as or as if as a favor"
In the few hours that LeBeau had known Edward the Dramatic, he found himself wishing the man had never existed. Not only was he a subpar version of the real Colonel Hogan, but he also was a manipulative man who bullied everyone into letting him get his own way while simultaneously convincing them it was their own choice. All of the real Colonel Hogan's men knew what it was like to be volunteered for a mission they did not want to help conduct, but this was absurd. Edward had somehow managed to manipulate LeBeau, a man who knew all of the Colonel's tricks, into going against the real Colonel Hogan, and when all was finished, it was LeBeau who was left as a spectacle on the street corner.
He closed his eyes briefly, frowning into the deserted night of Hammelburg and wishing he knew how to get himself out of this. Sure, he could walk away at any time, but then any grain of control he still had on Edward's behavior would be completely gone. Still, as he looked around himself, he had to wonder whether it was worth it. Surely even Colonel Hogan would agree that this had gone to an extreme and was not worth it. It couldn't be worth it.
It was not long after the art society agreed to help Edward make his movie that things had taken this drastic turn for the worst.
"Louis," Edward said, giving him a dramatic grin, "you are to have a very important part in this production."
At first LeBeau found himself worrying about being cast as a main actor and some Boche seeing him and putting the Stalag XIII operation in jeopardy, but that was not what Edward was trying to say.
"In fact, some people may call it the most important part of any production." LeBeau braced himself for some mention of catering for the film crew, but that was not what Edward meant either.
"I am relying on you for our money."
"Money?" LeBeau asked. "Are you asking me for a loan? I don't have enough to give you one."
"No, not a loan, never that. Lenders have a horrible tendency to ask for interest, and while that is good for making a plotline more intense, I don't want to deal with it in real life."
"Then what do you want?" LeBeau asked suspiciously.
"Louis, you will now go from being a mere purveyor of art, someone who just looks at art for his own enjoyment, to a salesman of art. Imagine, great crowds flocking around you to see your wares simply because you are selling them. Imagine them trusting your judgement and seeing how much they can pay you for the privilege of owning art you once sold. It will be a grand dream."
"You do not have to sell me on the idea. It is horrible."
"And yet, no matter what you think, you will do it," Edward hissed back at him after his sullen comment. "After all, you would not want to make all these ladies angry after all you've done to charm them."
"Why should I care about these Boche women? They are not on my side of the war." LeBeau deliberately left Edward out of the comment. As far as he was concerned, Edward had yet to prove that he was of any value to the Allies. In fact, right now he seemed like more of a threat with his mad ideas about how to end a war.
"I'll tell you why you care. You are currently surrounded by these women, and believe me when I tell you that there is nothing more ferocious than a woman who just realized she was tricked by a man she used to consider charming. Remember Medea?"
Judging by the look Edward gave him, LeBeau was willing to bet that Edward was even more ferocious, but then Edward turned around and addressed the women, and LeBeau was forced to concede he might have a point.
"Ladies, after looking at your tastefully decorated meeting space, Louis here has confided in me. He is so impressed by your art that he simply cannot wait to help you sell it."
LeBeau, having seen the "art" the ladies had "created" and were trying to sell, was very much not impressed. Or at least he was not impressed in a good way. The best of it looked only slightly better than something he would expect of Colonel Klink, but when he looked up to deny Edward's statements, the protest stopped before it began. One look at the women showed him that Edward was correct. If he tried to get out of this, even without insulting the "paintings," he would not make it out of here alive.
But by keeping his silence, the women all seemed to be even more charmed by him, and he realized even as he accepted their adoration that he was digging the pit deeper.
"Now, now, Ladies, we need—" Edward began.
"We must have a picture with him!" declared one of the women, and Edward preened.
"Of course, Ma'am," he said.
"Good, I will fetch the camera for you!" she said happily before dashing out of the room. The other ladies surrounded LeBeau, positioning themselves all around him. The first lady rushed back into the room and thrust a camera at Edward. "Here, take a picture of us."
Edward seemed disconcerted at not being the center of admiration, but he, in his numbly stunned state, complied, snapping a picture of all the smiling faces in front of him.
"Ah, danke, Herr Edward," said one of the women as she took the camera back from him. LeBeau found himself hoping that photo was never developed and decided to try to get the film himself. It would not do to have a picture of him outside the prison camp.
"Herr Louis?" asked a young lady. LeBeau looked up at her, annoyed that she was beginning a conversation that kept him from moving closer to the film. She was ignoring Edward's proclamations about how the casting process would work for his movie, so LeBeau decided she must have slightly more sense than the others, but in this situation, that only made her more dangerous. She gestured to a doorway. "This is where we keep most of our art, if you want to look for specific pieces to sell."
LeBeau tried not to look too disappointed as she led him further from the camera, but when he stepped inside the other room, he was glad that she had her back turned to him. There was no other way that he could have kept the dismay on his face hidden. He did not see a single good piece of art here. Oh, he could tell that some pieces had hours put into them, but not by someone who had a true artist's eye or experience. The figures in the paintings were out of proportion, and LeBeau soon realized that the only way he would be able to sell any of them would be to pretend that they were modern art. It was one thing to butter up Klink and use him to get what they needed, but having to pretend that these paintings were true art for the sake of Edward's ego and his film was hard. He hoped that the aliens took Edward away when they returned Klink since Edward definitely deserved to be kidnapped by them far more after getting LeBeau involved in this.
But then the girl turned around and LeBeau forced a smile onto his face. "I will take these two, and this one, and those three," he said. "There will not be enough time to try selling any more."
"Oh, danke Herr Louis," the girl replied. "I am no good at acting, so there is no point in me auditioning for your friend's movie, but I did create many of these myself, including that one that you chose," she said, motioning around the room and to one of the paintings LeBeau picked at random.
"Do not thank me. Just remember what you contributed to." The girl looked thoroughly enchanted by LeBeau's words, completely missing the bitterness in his voice as he referred to Edward's project. He gave up and traipsed back into the other room, the girl carrying his chosen paintings behind him.
"Louis, I see you have found artwork here that shall soon be famous!" cried Edward from across the room. Several women prancing in front of him for their "auditions" turned to look, and once more LeBeau's hopes of correcting their folly were crushed.
"Oui. I am leaving now," he explained, hoping he could dump the paintings soon enough to not let Edward move off to wherever he planned to film.
"You can't leave now. Not like that," Edward motioned to him, and LeBeau looked down at his perfectly good disguise in bewilderment. "No self-respecting art-seller would go about looking lkke a Luftwaffe solfier. We need to dress you up, and then you can leave."
As LeBeau stood on a street corner surrounded by sub-par paintings, he scowled to himself. Partially because of the paintings, partially because of Edward, and partially because of his new clothes. His Luftwaffe disguise, painstakingly tailored by Newkirk, were back at the art society building, and Edward had made sure that everyone there knew that Louis was not to get them back until he successfully sold all the paintings. He claimed it was so they could keep up LeBeau's "look," but LeBeau had seen the gleam in his eyes when he said it. This mixed-up duplicate of the Colonel knew that he could manipulate LeBeau into doing his bidding instead of the real Colonel's.
And so LeBeau stood on the street corner, trying to sell art he was embarrassed to have ever seen.