[ WP ] It 's 1912 . You 're drinking at a pub when a mysterious man dressed in a strange garb walks in ...

I put down my half-empty pint, and picked up the newspaper. The beer, by no means, was below par. It was just this… unwelcoming atmosphere that I disliked. Sure, vacations like these were necessary to refresh the mind and body of the modern, hard-working man; but at this point, I was questioning my decision to go to Vienna of all places. I paid little attention to the headlines; after all, they were just the same as we got in London: workers unhappy with their wages; tensions between major powers; rebellious youth all along the big cities. I sighed, and took a sip of beer. 
 
 It was around then, that I saw him walk in. He was a young man, pale, with sharp features. He was n't unattractive by any means, but his clothes and mustache gave him the air of someone who does not take good care of himself. The pub was small, and at this hour, quiet; so I suppose it was only natural for him to sit by me. I ’ m quite open to locals on my travels; however something in his presence made me slightly uncomfortable as he pulled the chair in front of me. The first impression he gave me was of someone with anxiety, perhaps even paranoia. 
 
 “ Hi, how are you? ” he said to me in English with a heavy accent, grinning slightly. 
 
 “ Lord, is it so obvious that I ’ m from England? ” I replied cheerfully, hoping the lad would have one or two interesting things to say. 
 
 “ Well, this is a place popular with tourists. Plus, I can see the teacup there. ” He pointed at the empty teacup on my right. 
 
 “ How observant! ” I chuckled. “ Yes, yes, I ’ m on vacation. ” 
 
 “ Enjoying the city? ” He leaned closer to me. 
 
 “ It ’ s nice… certainly better than London right now. ” I had to admit, something about the chap was quite… interesting. He had a certain quality of attraction, perhaps, that made me want to find out who he really was. 
 
 “ Used to be nicer, but then, you know… foreigners... ” He frowned, looking at the ceiling. “ I suppose your country is going thru something similar? ” 
 
 “ More or less, as it is, we receive a lot of immigrants, sometimes too many. ” I drank my last sip of beer. I had nothing against immigrants, but part of me just wanted to agree with the man. I saw he had a few frames with him. 
 
 “ Are those yours? ” I pointed at the paintings. 
 
 “ Yes, yes… care to look at some? ” Before I could decline politely, he shoved them in my face. I did n't pay much attention. They were mostly charcoal panoramas or simple paintings. Not bad, just a bit unoriginal. 
 
 “ If you want, I can sell you some. ” He looked me in the eyes, and I realized that should I say no, I ’ d certainly gain the resentfulness of yet another man. He wanted, no, needed me to buy him something. 
 
 I answered with the truth. “ I would like to, but I don ’ t have a lot of money on me, I ’ m afraid. ” 
 
 “ Oh, I see… ” he looked away. 
 
 “ Well, take care old lad. ” I got up, and took my coat. 
 
 “ Danke. ” He muttered with the resentfulness I tried to escape. I had paid at the bar, and was about to exit when my curiosity flared again. I had not read his signature on his art. 
 
 “ Umm, excuse me, but I did n't get your name. ” I put on my political smile, as I saw him turn around on his chair. 
 
 “ I ’ m Adolf. ” He said in a clear, flat tone. “ Adolf Hitler. ” 
 
 “ Well, Adolf, try not to cause too much trouble! ” I tipped my hat as I walked out, not waiting for his answer. 

