“I think we just got on Kaplan’s bad side,” Marvin said, standing behind Rob, who jumped, looking up.

At the front of the tavern, Greg stood up. Seemingly in a daze, he walked to exit the tavern. “Hey, Gregory,” Schmidt said, walking up to him. “Are you okay? It’s not like you to not stand up for something you believe in.”

Greg avoided Schmidt’s eyes. “Something I believe in? I know that I have a job to do, Schmidt. I don’t like it, but I understand that I have to be the one to do it. Because if I won’t do it, then who will?”

Schmidt watched as Greg left the tavern. For a moment, he considered following him, but decided against it. He returned to Rob and Marvin.

“I know I say this a lot,” Rob began, “but what the actual hell just happened? And what’s up with Gregory? Is Kaplan gonna execute us? Oh, man… I should’ve just let you get in all the trouble, Barry…”

“Don’t call me Barry,” Schmidt said. It was the only thing he could think to say at that moment.

Rob began to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Marvin asked.

Schmidt added, “Yeah, Kaplan’s going to get us charged for treason because we think Krüger’s plan is stupid, which it is. And if we aren’t executed for committing treason, the Beans will kill us instead. Either way, we’re dead. It’s not something to laugh about, Rob.”

Rob slapped his leg, still laughing.

Schmidt could barely hear Marvin over Rob. “I think he was bluffing about charging us with treason. He just wanted us to stop talking. It would be counterproductive to charge us for treason so soon before our assault on Bean territory. Still, it’s not good that we’re on his bad side now.”

Rob was still laughing, tears streaming down his face. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be laughin’, but I can’t stop!” He began to wheeze.

Marvin stared at Rob, a ghost of a smile forming on his lips. Then, he began to chuckle heartily as well.

Watching them both laugh with each other, Schmidt couldn’t stop himself from laughing alongside them. Eventually, they were laughing so hard that they all had trouble breathing. By the time they were able to calm down, they were alone in the tavern. “Why were you laughing?” Marvin asked, returning to his usual quiet tone.

“Oh, you wouldn’t get it,” Rob said, catching his breath. “It’s a joke between me and Barry.”

“What joke?” Schmidt asked.

“You said not to call you Barry. You haven’t said that in a while… You used to say it all the time when we were in Dijon, but you stopped after the Bean attacks. Guess you just haven’t been in a jokin’ mood since then, have you?”

“Not really,” Schmidt replied. “I haven’t even noticed. Everything’s been so chaotic and stressful… But, seriously, don’t call me Barry.”

“I’ll call you Barry whenever I damn well please, Barry.” Rob chuckled. “I missed that side of you, man, for real. It’s been so long since you’ve been so… you. All we need now is for you to go on one of your illuminati conspiracy theory rants and everything’ll be back to normal.”

“Shut up, Rob.”

“It’s nice to know that the old Barry is still in there somewhere. The fun Barry, with all his crazy but scarily accurate conspiracy theories, the Barry that pretended that he didn’t care about anyone else’s opinion of him even though he cared very deeply and—”

“Really, shut up,” Schmidt said, making his way to the door of the tavern. He opened it to leave, Rob and Marvin following. “We better get back to work before Kaplan realizes we’re…”

Kaplan stood in the street outside the tavern, watching his soldiers prepare the new Bean-specific weapons as he waited. “I want to talk to Schmidt and Fiedler privately. You may go, Braun,” he said. Marvin glanced between Schmidt, Rob, and Kaplan. “Get back to work.” Marvin left, leaving them alone with Kaplan in the street.

Kaplan’s head was held high, his posture straight as an arrow. His muscles were relaxed despite his posture and disciplined, almost march-like walk; Kaplan moved with the strength and fluidity of water. “Let us go back inside,” he said, holding the door open for them.

Schmidt said, “Lieutenant Kaplan, we weren’t—”

“You will address me as sir,” Kaplan said.

“Sure,” Schmidt said. “Lieutenant Kaplan, we—”

“Address me as sir,” Kaplan corrected, his voice hard.

“Sure. Lieutenant Kaplan, sir, we—”

“Come inside,” Kaplan said, still holding the door open for them.

Rob glanced between Schmidt and Kaplan before entering the tavern again. His heart beat rapidly in his chest. Kaplan was acting strange, and they could both tell. His voice was different than usual; despite his increased strictness, his voice usually had a slight edge of humor in it. That edge was gone now, replaced with something that Schmidt couldn’t quite place. Whatever it was, it made him nervous.

Schmidt entered the tavern.