"Vhat piece vill I be playing?"

"Jawohl, I can sightread. Just let me know zhe title."

"I do not approve of doing zhis."

"It is rude to not let your performer know vhat piece he is to play."

"At least tell me of zhe grade."

"Ja, I can do zhat."

"A Romanticsche piece? Sehr gut. I can play zhose piece vell."

"Danke. Vhen vill I perform?"

"Gut."

"Jawohl. Auf wiedersehen."

Roderich was white knuckling the phone by this time. What kind of commissioner doesn't allow their performer to even know what piece they are playing?! How veritably inconsiderate. The Austrian would be able to play anything they put in front of him, but still. How dare they ask him to sightread! Typical Germans. Always so… well, they weren't exactly rude, but not perfectly polite. Just… ignorant of proper concert manner.

He exhaled slowly as he gently placed the phone back on its charging dock. He'd just go perform, take his payment, and be done with it. One song. He can play one song without too much trouble. He couldn't help but feel that something about that man's voice, so demanding and curt… familiar? No, it couldn't be…

Well, the performance was tonight; he had ten hours to get from his Salzburg villa to the Vienna concert hall. A reunion of officers. He chuckled darkly. Did they not know who, or rather, what he was? His last name was Edelstein, after all. It should have been obvious. Or perhaps he was hired by someone who… simply overlooked such a detail.

"Johann? Are you still here?" Roderich called down the hall.

"Mmf. Ja?" A dark haired Austrian, Roderich's almost identical twin brother, stepped out of one of the rooms, a violin bow in one hand, a block of rosin in the other. Johann Edelstein, at a quick glance, was the other Austrian's spitting image. Until further inspection, one could not tell the difference between the two. But, Johann's hair was closer to black than chocolate, and his eyes were differently shaded than Roderich's amethyst. The other Austrian's eyes were quite a peculiarity. His left eye was a bright silver color, while the right… it was quite a sight. The right eye lacked a pupil, and the silver was dark, fading to gold in the center. In addition, his nose was crooked from having been broken a few times, as well as a plethora of scars marring his skin. His right hand was missing the final two digits.

"Servus, bruder." He nodded politely.

"Ja, ja, servus to you too, Roddy."

Roderich stiffened at the nickname. "Johann, please do not…"

"Recht. Roderich. So, who vas calling? I assume it vas important if you need to tell me about it…"

"I've received a commission to perform at the Officer's Reunion in Vienna zhis evening."

Johann dropped the block of rosin, which promptly shattered, spreading the dried wax over the floor. "NEIN!"

Roderich flinched back at his brother's reaction, quite shocked.

"I von't allow zhis."

"Johann, ve need zhe money."

"Zhey better have offered you ten zhousand Euros for zhis."

"Five."

"Five zhousand? Wirklich?"

"Ja."

"Vhat vill you be playing?"

"Zhey vill not tell me."

"…..you are a grand sightreader."

"Ja, but zhat is still... uncourteous."

"Veritably." Johann nodded in agreement.

"I vill go, und I vill be fine. You vill see."

"I'm going vith you."

"…fine."