The sleep that the Captain experienced was deep and restful, as one might expect from a man with a gaping hole through the left side of his chest caused by a piece of silver. Not to mention his other injuries which came about from going head-to-head with a powerful vampire. Unlike most werewolves, Hans could control when and where he transformed. He was a mature lycan, after all. The moon simply granted him power, it didn't cause a sudden transformation like it would for a younger wolfman who had less mastery over their power. While his sleep was deep and refreshing, it was a little troubled by dreams of Millennium. Not to mention the stress that was slowly packing onto him as he got anxious to discover what happened to the rest of his people.

He was aware of Schrodingers fate, but was holding out hope that by some miracle the young boy survived in a similar way to how the Captain did. The rest of the organization he could care less about. Hans was never a proper Nazi, after all. Sure, he was an Arian, having a strong body with what used to be blue eyes and blonde hair. Now, his hair had become white, to indicate his age. His eyes were also red, as he became more wolf than man as time passed. When he was still young, he was the textbook definition of one of the master race. Strong, tall, smart, and so on. One trait that didn't define him as a Nazi, however, was his kindness and his drive not to kill unless he needed to.

Similar to the pity and mercy he showed with that German from Iscariot, Hans was never one to kill without reason. Should he be tasked with killing people who in themselves were harmless, he would instruct those individuals to flee, lying to his superiors and saying that he had done the job when really his targets were alive and well. One could therefore say rather easily that, with the potential exception of Walter, the Captain was the most sane of the last battalion. This excludes those members of the German Navy who were in charge of piloting and maintaining the fleet of zeppelins which the group used to travel. While those men and women had a drive for war, they were hardly insane. They were more like normal people with a bit of a grudge. They couldn't compete with the blood lust that the Major had, either, for that matter.

With a slight gasp, the eyes of the werewolf shot open. His heart was racing, and he felt as though he was sweating even though not a drop of moisture was anywhere on his skin. He quickly calmed down, however, soon closing his eyes and sighing as he laid there. He rather quickly determined that he'd just awoken from a nightmare which he had no memory of. It seemed as though it was a good time to awaken, however, as there was early morning sunlight coming in through the window which projected lines on the floor and the wall. Some particles of dust suspended in front of the sunlight, making a peculiar sight as it often did.

Mindful of his wound this time, the Ex-Nazi - at least in his mind - sat up and pulled his coat open. The once white bandage now having red soaked into it, but the overall size of the wound had gone down. Ready to try and stand, the man moved to where he was sitting on the side of the bed with his legs dangling over. It was low enough that the bottom of his boots - which he never took off - scraped the floor of the cluttered room. He grunted, and with a bit of effort, he moved from sitting on the edge of the modestly sized bed to standing on his own two feet. He felt little to no pain in his body, most of the damage from his previous engagement having healed - the only thing that really remained being due to the silver.

He began to slowly stretch. His legs, arms, back, you name it. He got as many muscles as he could, his joints cracking one by one as he became more relaxed and loosened up. Soon enough, he begat actually walking. His left leg, then his right, back and forth. The casual observer wouldn't notice, but the Lycan was actually doing a self check-up of sorts as he walked along. He was making sure he was alright, save for the obvious. Thankfully, for the most part, he seemed to be. Once he stepped out of the room he slept in, a wall of scent hit him. Said scent smelled like a typical breakfast of fried eggs and toast. This simple dish was something the wolfman hadn't experienced in a number of years. 'Military food' was what he was used to for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Everyone was, save for on special occasions when officers like he, the Major, Zorin, and so on would have a proper meal and things to drink.

The last one of those was a couple months back, and Hans didn't even eat much of it. He was mostly sticking around Schrodinger, practically taking the place of a parent to the boy. God knows he needed one in a place like this, Nazi ideals aside. The Doctor himself who made the boy what he was didn't even act like any sort of proper authority figure, which really perplexed the Hauptsturmführer. Although, the boy also seemed close to Rip Van Winkle. The woman honestly made Hans uneasy, but when she kept herself in check - an easy feat when she wasn't in combat - she was fairly hospitable. Still a bit creepy to Hans, though. Even with the fact that she was a better choice than, say, Zorin. That wouldn't go well at all in the Captain's mind.

These memories aside, the man made his way down the stairs - unassisted - and walked into the kitchen where two plates of food were sitting, still steaming from their heat. Megan, meanwhile, taking care of the pan she must have used in the sink. Hearing the other occupant of the home step into the room, the woman with her sparkling blue eyes, black hair, and lithe body turned her head to look at him and offer a smile. "Good morning," She would say before returning to rinsing off the pan.

With a nod to the woman, Hans buttoned up his coat. All patched up, there was no real reason to leave it open. "Morning, miss," He graciously replied a moment later. He then went over to the table where breakfast was, taking a seat before one of the plates. He didn't dare eat yet, saying to her "Thank you for the food," but still not eating. He waited for her to sit down, then he would give her a nod, and start digging in.

Her kindness really did baffle the humble Captain. He'd not been there for more than twenty-four hours and she'd made him food, gave him a room, and mended to his large amount of wounds. Well, the one massive one, rather. She must have also noticed that his uniform was of Nazi make, too. Yet, she still was taking care of him. The sound of silverwear clicking against ceramic was soon heard as the two began eating. No words were really said, the Captain eating rather conservitavely while Megan ate fairly normally and casually as well. It was not until they finished their meals at around the same time that any more speech was exchanged. This action done first by the kind Welsh woman.

"I hope you liked it, I've not cooked for two in quite some time." She spoke softly, sounding a bit timid as she stood and picked up both of their plates to go wash them.

"It was excellent, thank you," The German replied, keeping his eyes on her as she moved. He himself remained seated and still otherwise, however. He would offer a nervous smile, before quickly exchanging it for a straight face. "I thank you for the help you've given me as well," He said honestly when looking to her back as she rinsed off the dishes.

She paused at that, before smiling to herself and continuing scrubbing off the little amount of filth that was left behind on the plates. "It's not in my nature to turn down anyone who needs help, especially someone who has a wound in their chest the size of a dinner plate..." She joked, eliciting the slightest smirk from the Captain.

"For that, I am very grateful," He said with that same smile on his face.

Soon enough, she would turn around, the Captain keeping his eyes on her as his neutral expression returned. His eyes went to rest on hers as she gave another timid grin. However, before she could speak, Hans decided to speak up, "You recognize my uniform, do you not?" He inquired bluntly.

Megan blinked at this, but nodded, "Yes, sir. It's one from the Afrika Corps... Right?" She asked.

This gained a nod from the wolf-man, "And which military force were the Afrika Corps a part of?"

"The Third Reich, of course. A part of the Nazi army," She replied.

The man nodded again, "Correct. As far as you know, I'm a full Nazi - coming to you with strange injuries and somehow still being alive, I might not even be human." His red eyes flashed at this, the girl not moving, which was probably a smart decision.

She shrugged, "You've not brought a party of other Nazis with you, and you're not telling me of 'the glory of the third reich' like some preacher. Not to mention I don't think you'd hurt someone if you could help it, even if you weren't human."

"How would you tell that?" He quickly retorted.

"Your eyes... Red and old they may be, they're still docile and kind. Your behavior so far has shown as such, too," She said with a smile.

Hans couldn't help but smirk at that and shake his head, looking down at the table. "You play the part of a medic quite well, you know?" He would say.

This got a giggle from the girl, "I suppose my brief time as a nurse served me well. Speaking of which, we should probably re-dress your wound."

The man looked to her again, and nodded, standing slowly as he walked to the living room and laid on the couch in the same place as the prior operation. As he laid there, he opened up his coat and lifted the shirt under it while Megan gathered her doctoring materials. The girl on her knees beside the couch, the medical kit on the coffee table, the woman looked over the bandage and shook her head. The thing looked like it had been dipped in a vat of blood completely - the once dry and crisp white thing now a deep, slightly damp crimson.

"You're not human, are you?" She asked, moving to unwrap the thinner bandages she used as a brace to keep the main bandage in place over the gaping hole in his chest. She went slow and gently, as one may expect.

"Don't be silly... Of course I'm human." He said, lying clean and true which gained an eye roll from the Welsh woman.

As she took off the soaked bandage square, her eyes widened a bit - the once massive hole in his chest having shrunk by quite the amount. She looked to his eyes with a risen eyebrow and an unamused expression as she put the used bandage off to the side. "Considering you were still standing and coherent when you came to my door, and you're still alive now with minor medical attention, and the fact that your wound is already starting to close up says otherwise." She said, moving to get a clean rag and some rubbing alcohol to scrub out the wound.

Hans sighed, "So I have a tolerance for pain, big deal..." He would say, trying his hardest not to display shifty eyes.

Megan doused a bit of the rag with the alcohol, moving it to the wound and starting to scrub it firmly but slowly. Hans gritted his teeth and remained still, but otherwise seemed uneffected. "You said yourself you might not be human, and I would believe it. The Nazis were known for their messing around in occult type stuff, weren't they? Not to mention I've heard the rumors of things like Hellsing, vampires, ghouls, and so forth." She shrugged casually as she continued cleaning the wound.

The Captain huffed, sighing yet again, "Fine, you caught me," he would say - giving the woman the slightest bit of satisfaction as she removed that towel and set it off to the side while she got a new bandage.

"I won't bother asking what you really are, as I doubt you want to tell me. I just want for you to be upfront and honest with me while you're here. That's why I didn't acknowledge your uniform, I wanted you to be comfortable and not suspect resentment or anything." She then gently blew on the wound, the alcohol evaporating quickly as she prepared another large, square, white bandage.

He simply nodded to her words and no more, slowly closing his eyes as he soon felt the fabric of another clean bandage cover over his wound and gently press down on it before it was secured in place.

"All done," She said with a smile, now cleaning up the refuse of the 'operation.'

It was at this point that Hans weakly opened his eyes, staying in place as he looked up at the woman. "I'll be out of your hair in a few more days," he said, "I heal quickly."

The girl nodded and sighed, "I gathered... But you don't need to leave immediately when you're healed, you know." She said, looking back over to him. "You can stay here with me... Start a new life. Going by your wound and the expression you had when you first arrived, you were completely out of your normal stride."

Hans shook his head, but gave no vocal protest. Instead, he hummed lowly before closing his eyes again, "I'll consider it..." He mumbled, barely loud enough for himself to hear.