Are you coming?" Josef's voice called from the other side of her desk. Mila looked up from her typewriter, her fingers still clicking fiercely against the keys as she smiled at Josef.

"Just finishing up this..." She trailed off, her eyes darting back down, typing out the last few letters on the page of notes she had been copying. "Page," She finished her sentence finally, sliding over the type carriage on the typewriter and pushing her chair back, standing to her feet. Heaving the typewriter into its case, she zipped it up and carried it with her as her and Josef made their way down the long hallway leading to the conference room where meetings were held.

"Are you sure its a good idea? Us walking in together?" She turned to look at him when they reached the door. It was her first day attending the security briefings, as well as her first day back at work since their relationship had been made public. The last thing she wanted to do was give General Eichmann any reason to doubt her ability to separate work from pleasure.

"You could go in a few seconds before me," Josef said, an amused smirk turning up the corners of his lips. "If it'd make you feel better."

"Well wouldn't that look a bit staged?" She said seriously. "Like we meant not to come in together?"

"Mila..." He trailed off, taking her hand in his. "You're overthinking it." His smirk widened and he pushed against the door, pulling her inside. "Come on." Letting go of her hand, they walked to there respective places around the table, Mila at General Eichmann's right hand, and Josef a few seats down.

"Let's get started," General Eichmann said, standing to his feet once the last man had arrived and taken his seat. "Gentlemen, Ms. Vanderwall will be attending all of our meetings from now on," He began, gesturing to Mila. "I dare say with a bit more structure, we could all be home by four o'clock each afternoon."

"I'm all for that," Lieutenant Hoffmann said, his eyes trained on Mila, a small smirk on his lips. She looked away, warmth flooding her cheeks as his eyes lingered on her.

"Yes, well," General Eichmann cleared his throat. "Lieutenant Hoffman, why don't you start us off."

"Of course sir," Lieutenant Hoffman said, the smirk still evident on his face though Mila dared not look up from her typewriter. "The labor camps have been working tirelessly. The supply total as of yesterday is 800 pounds of grain, as well as 200 crates of ammunition from our factories."

"Good," General Eichmann nodded. "Shultz, what word from Berlin?"

"They'll be expecting our shipment on January ninth sir," The same tall, skinny man she knew from the morning meetings spoke up, pushing his cotton top hair off his forehead as he read from the paper in front of him. "Men will be stationed at the border in Bocholt to receive the supplies and transport it to Essen. From there, the plan is still for the shipments to be flown to Berlin, and then to Stalingrad."

The meeting dragged on, talks of the specific ammunition being produced by the factories in Den Haag, and whether or not to transport the supplies via military vehicle had between the men in the room.

Mila typed every word, making mental notes of everything said, sparing no detail as she committed it to memory for her meeting with Harvey and Catherine. The plan, according to the report on General Eichmann's desk she had read, had't seemed to change, and she was glad the information she had passed to Harvey and Catherine was still relevant ... Especially since plans had already been made to intercept the supplies.

"Alright boys," General Eichmann said once the last man had given his report. "Let's call it a day, shall we?" The men around the table began packing up their things, sliding file folders into satchels and throwing coats on over their uniforms in preparation to exit the warm confines of the War Office, into the bitter December air. "If the rest of the week goes this smoothly, we'll take Friday afternoon off ... Let you all get a jump on your Christmas holiday," General Eichmann smiled pleasantly, soft chatter filling the room as the men began to file out. "Ms. Vanderwall," General Eichmann turned his attention to her. "If you'd be willing to type these up and make enough copies for everyone I'd be grateful," He said, handing the reports each man had given General Eichmann before they'd left.

"Of course sir," She nodded, taking the files from him. Tucking them underneath her arm, she began packing up her things. Zipping up her typewriter case, she heaved it off the table and exited the room. Retreating down the hallway to the work room, her eyes fell on Josef, who had propped himself against her desk. She smiled coyly as she approached him.

"Do you have plans tonight?" He asked, taking her typewriter case, and placing it on the desk for her.

"I have a date," She said, smirking at his puzzled expression. "With these," She added, holding up the reports General Eichmann had given her.

"I figured you'd say that," He said, raising a mischievous eyebrow. Pushing himself off the spot he'd been leaning against, he grabbed a chair from another desk and slid it beside Mila's, plopping down in it with a satisfied smirk. "Mind if I tag along?"

"Well it seems you've already made yourself at home, so I suppose not," She said, returning his smirk. "No distractions though," She added, giving him a look that said she meant it.

"I'll be on my best behavior," He said, throwing up his hands in mock innocence. She rolled her eyes with a chuckle, and sat down, setting up her typewriter for what was going to be a long evening. Opening up the first report in the stack of folders, she began typing, transcribing each word onto the special waxed paper she would use to make the copies.

They sat in silence for a while, the tapping of Mila's fingertips against the keys of the typewriter the only sound in the vacant room. Flipping over a completed page, she glanced at Josef out of the corner of her eye. He was thumbing through the copy of Bleak House she kept in her desk, though she hadn't picked it up in weeks, too busy to enjoy any casual reading.

"Have you ever read it?" She asked, nodding towards the book in Josef's hands.

He nodded. "I was never much of a fan though," He said, closing the book and turning it over in his hands as if to examine it. "I always found it extremely sad ... How much heartbreak could've been avoided if it hadn't been for all the secrets. Take Esther for example," He added, sitting the book down on the desk. "She knew how she felt about Mr. Woodcourt, and how he felt about her, but she waited years to admit it."

"She couldn't be honest with Mr. Woodcourt," Mila shook her head. "Her circumstances wouldn't have allowed it." She glanced away, the similarities between herself and Dickens' main character evident to her for the first time. "Besides, they found each other in the end."

"I guess so," Josef shrugged. "But think about how much more time they would've had together had they not been so preoccupied with other people's perception of them."

"Sometimes the way people see you is the only perception that matters," She said, meeting Josef's eyes.

"I suppose you're right," He said, holding her gaze. Propping his elbows against his knees, he leaned forward in his chair. "Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?" He asked, his eyes scanning every feature of her face.

"What?" She asked, turning in her seat to face him, a small smile flickering across her lips.

"I see the smartest," He paused, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Most driven," He continued, sliding his hand down her cheek, resting it against her jaw. "Most beautiful woman I've ever met," He finished, resting his forehead against her's. Leaning in, he kissed her softly, pulling away after a few agonizingly short seconds.

"I thought I said no distractions," She smirked, making no effort to move away from his touch.

"I gave it my best effort," He replied slyly, returning her smirk.

"Well I suppose a short break wouldn't hurt anything," She said, planting another fleeting kiss against his lips.

"Agreed."