Chapter 2

"I cannot believe that I let you talk me into another one of your insane schemes!" the German grumbled, wishing for the lost overcoat as his hands felt frozen clutching his trumpet.

"It was a sure thing!" Arthur did his best to keep his teeth from chattering as he attempted to find a way to warm his hands without dropping his guitar.

"10-to-1 odds are not a 'sure thing'! You can't keep betting on the long shot! Scheiße, Arthur, I thought you vere smarter than that!"

Arthur had a habit of taking a gamble. He was a lucky man, usually, and often managed to make it work. That was how they had met, after all. Ludwig's older brother, Gilbert, a police-officer, had dragged the Brit in after a storeowner had accused him of theft. Not only had he managed to be found innocent of the crime, the remorseful storeowner had given him food and a new coat in apology. When Ludwig was doubting whether or not becoming a musician would be the best idea, his new-found friend encouraged him to follow his heart.

Too bad that following his heart put him in debt. Growing up, he thought that he'd have to support Gilbert, not the other way around. Not that Ludwig depended completely on his brother, no, he'd turned away the elder's help when it was offered. Unfortunately, he'd fallen out of touch with his brother when the older Beilschmidt married Madeleine Bonnefoy, preferring not to risk putting a strain on the couple's finances.

He moved in with Arthur to save money, and they had been doing fairly well until lately.

Somehow, the Brit's gambles just kept falling through.

"My buddy assured me it was…"

"Your buddy is a scammer."

They walked into the music building, and started knocking on the doors looking for work. But when they opened the last door, they wished they hadn't.

"ARTHUR!"

The Brit kept a hopeful smile on his face and tried to make a fast exit, "None here either, okay…"

"Get back in here."

Escape Attempt: Failed. The men did as they were told, standing in front of an unhappy-looking women with long brown hair in twin-tails tied by red ribbons. She drummed her fingers impatiently against the desk, waiting for them to speak. Her eyes briefly acknowledged Ludwig's existence before focusing completely on the Brit who was doing his best to regain his composure.

'Michelle," Arthur used his most suave voice, but was cut off.

"Do you have any idea how long I waited for you last night?" she glared at him, "That was your thirteenth chance!"

"Thirteenth?" the Brit was confused, "I thought we were still under ten."

"No."

"Well, thirteen is an unlucky number, how about we try for…"

"No."

He sighed, "Look, Michelle, Luddy here forgot that he had a doctor's appointment and I had to go with him."

The German gave a visible start, not expecting the sudden fabrication (though he should have, considering Arthur's nature).

Her brown eyes flickered back to Ludwig who did his best to regain his composure. He'd have to trust Arthur for this.

"Why did you have to go with him? He looks capable of doing it himself," she was understandably skeptical.

"You see," Arthur leaned in like he was telling a secret, and reflexively, Michelle did the same, "Ludwig has a terrible phobia of needles.

She gave a very unladylike snort, "Oh, come on."

"It's the truth," his British accent thickened (Ludwig could recall Arthur's last girlfriend remarking that when his accent thickened like that, beware, because that meant he was being quite serious and no one could resist him), "He's had a very bad history with them. In fact, he broke the old doctor's arm when he came at him with the needle. And that's why he needed me to come with him."

"So he could break your arm instead? Or do you need to hold his hand?"

"No, so that he could have someone there to remind him that the doctor's only trying to help him and not to promptly try injuring the person who carries the needle. My main purpose is to distract him whilst the doctor sneaks around and stick him."

"Well, that certainly does sound inconvenient."

Ludwig almost let out a sigh of belief, it seemed like she was going to stop screeching at them for a bit.

"Anyways," Arthur smoothly changed the subject as he leaned away to resume his perfect posture, "The last job didn't pan out. We need to find new jobs now."

"New jobs?" Michelle perked up at this.

"Do you have anything?" the German finally spoke up, reminding the others of his presence.

If they hadn't needed the jobs so badly, the dynamic duo might've felt a little uneasy at the expression on the girl's face.

"Why yes," she said, winking at her boss's secretary, Lili, "Mr. Zwingli's got two jobs lined up for a trumpet-player and a guitarist. Three weeks in Florida."

"Well then," Arthur prepared to rush in, but he was stopped by the petite blonde holding out a hand.

"Big bruder is busy in a meeting right now," she spoke, "You will have to wait until he is finished."

"I can't believe this!" Elizabeta exclaimed, pacing about the office, "One's pregnant and the other ran off with a guy! Don't they know what a big deal this gig is?"

She turned on the bespectacled man, "Roderich! How could you have let something like this happen? I oughta fire you!"

To his credit, the man didn't flinch from the brunette's anger, "Miss Hedervary, I am not the girls' babysitter. I just manage your funds."

But she was already gone, spinning back to the blond sitting at the desk.

"I'll have you know," he said, "I'm very busy…"

"I'll give you a hundred dollars."

"…and I am sure I can make time to find girls for you."

"That's more like it. We leave tomorrow at two from the train station. Have them be there."

And with that, she flounced out, followed by the manager as Mr. Zwingli grabbed his phone and started dialing numbers.

He groaned as the door slammed open.

"Vash," emerald eyes peered into his as two hands steadied their owner as he leaned over the businessman's desk, "I hear you've got a job for a trumpet-player and a guitarist."

"I do," he did his best to ignore them as he focused on more numbers.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, surely it was obvious, "I'm a guitarist, and Luddy here is a trumpet-player. Just sign us up…"

"No."

"Vhy?" the German asked.

He finally got the businessman's attention, who looked them up and down for a minute before returning to his search.

"You aren't qualified."

Arthur snorted, "Look, we might not be the best, but we're great players!"

"The issue is not in your playing but in your appearance."

"We can change that!"

"Oh really," Vash looked up at them, "You have to be under twenty-five."

"We can pass for that."

"Your hair has to reach to your shoulders at the very least."

"We can wear wigs."

"You have to be female."

"We can…"

"No ve can't," Ludwig interrupted.

"What?" Arthur asked.

The German glared at him, "Ve are not pretending to be female," he looked at the Swiss man, "Let us know if anything else comes up."

It was then that he grabbed onto his friend's shoulder and pulled him out of the room.