"Wow, I didn't think that such talent existed these days! Roderich, you did a real good job!"
"Yeah. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you are Mr. Mozart in another life."
Roderich just kept getting compliments from people all around. Most of them, of course, were European. Few were Americans.
In turn he couldn't help but to show a smile, feeling accomplished, and of course, good about himself as everyone spoke to him in such well-mannered words. For once he did not mind a small crowd, but, it may be possibly because everyone was praising his work after the show, all the members apart of the band, including himself, within the lounging area.
"It would be nice if I was. However, it is silly to say such things. I only did what I could."
Roderich spoke. He would not let these compliments go to his head, even though he enjoyed them. He was never really one to let his ego grow, at lest, by to much. The others however, just kept insisting.
"And more! We know that there will be a growth of customers flying in no time! And all because of you! And did ya see how the audience reacted after the show! Man, they love you!"
One of the few Americans in the room spoke with a wide smile across his face. Roderich did not think that much of his performance. He wondered if the man's words were true. Would more people really start coming in? Visiting, just to see him perform? He had never had such a thing happen before. Back in Austria, he would keep to himself in his music room, play for his own pleasures and no one elses. He did not mind. But this felt a lot better. To actually have people acknowledge your talent.
However as long as he had his music, he supposed that it did not fully matter. Even if everything did go smoothly, to where he actually joined a world wide world known orchestra. He only wanted to enjoy his job, just as he was now.
"I suppose."
Roderich responded as he looked down at his feet. It was then everyone else looked to each other, and began to talk about other things, such as what is going on their personal life or what all had happened during their little weekend, others getting their things together to go back to their residence.
There was still a downside to this whole ordeal.
That man.
Gilbert Beilschmidt.
Roderich still kept it to mind. Of how he just kept staring at him during the whole show. Not even taking for a moment to look away. At lest that was what the Austrian could tell. His eyes just pierced him in such a way to where he could feel them after all those hours. And why did he even stare in the first place? There was nothing so interesting, he was only doing what he enjoyed. Yet that strange, vile man, just wouldn't turn away for even a moment. It bothered the musician very much. And the worst thing was, was that he was going to have to deal with it. He worked here after all, and from what Hareld told him, this was his most favorite place to eat out. How troublesome.
"Ve? Roderich, are you alright?"
A Italian asked. The musician lifted his gaze, then looked over to his side, to only then see Feliciano looking at him with both a questioned and worried expression. The Austrian blinked lightly with his violet hues, while the slight frown across his face faded along with his distant expression, him not even noticing that it was there in the first place.
"Yes, I am fine. Just a bit tired."
He lied to the young Italian.
"But why are you back here? Aren't you supposed to be heading for home?"
Roderich switched off the subject. He did not even want to think of that murderer right now. He had to remember to not let the man get in his way during a nice hour with others. He kept that very thing in mind as he now only focused on his younger friend. Feliciano smiled then, being happy that, seemingly, nothing was wrong, then gave a few shakes of his head.
"No. I am closing tonight, so I have to help clean up. But, if you are really tried, you should get back to your own house. It is late after all."
Replied the Italian, suggesting what he thought to be right for Roderich. The musician gave a small smile, then a small nod.
"Yes. I will be sure to. Have a good night."
Replied the gently spoken Austrian. Feliciano smiled a bit wider, then gave a quick nod.
"Alright! You as well!"
It was then the Italian waved at Roderich, before walking away in a almost excited manner. Roderich just kept showing that small smile of his, before letting out a deep sigh. He should leave now. Maybe a nice cup of tea and a home made cake will calm his nerves finely. Those two things always did after all.
Going to the coat hanger that stood at the right corner of the room, he grabbed up his coal black coat that he bought on his way home after the interview with The Palmpay, and put it over his body, his arms going through the sleeve. Making sure that it looked well enough over him, he sighed deeply and went to go out.
"Hey."
Hareld's voice went out, which caught the Austrian's attention, knowing that it was directed to him. Looking over at the doorway, he watched as the Irish man approached him with a smile across his face.
"You did just how I thought you would. Brilliant."
He complimented. Roderich once more showed his small smile, before gripping his soft hat, putting it upon his head before giving a light nod.
"Thank you. I only did what I could."
He replied while lowering the hand he had just used down.
"Always modest, huh...? Are you going home?"
Hareld asked. Roderich gave a small nod as a part of his reply.
"Yes."
Hareld gave a few of his own nods, before reaching into his vest, taking out a piece of yellow paper from a inside pocket, looking at it for a moment before focusing his attention back on Roderich.
"Alright. Since tomorrow is Monday, we open earlier, so, I need for you to come in at 6:00. Can you do that?"
The piece of paper Hareld pulled out was more then likely a schedule. However Roderich did not think much over it.
"I can."
He told his Irish friend. The man smiled wider.
"Good then. You will be paid on Saturday, paydate ends every Friday. Come pick up your money after 10:00, ok?"
He asked. Roderich smiled a small bit more.
"Don't worry over it, I will be sure to get my pay. Thank you."
The musician then walked around Hareld, heading right for the opening frame, while others said goodbye to him, which he replied to with small waves of his hand.
"Have a safe walk home!"
Hareld called out, which Roderich somewhat wished he didn't. For once more he was reminded of that lingering mobster boss.
His smile went away, and he glanced to the side, before walking to his right and from the people he was slowly starting to know. A safe walk home. He could only hope so. That evil man was just here at this club. Eating dinner and drinking beer as if he had never done a thing wrong. When he did. Killing, and beating people for a living. What a savage way to go about life. And from the expression the mobster had last night, with that smirk and such, he did not even care that he killed that person, and Roderich just couldn't understand on how. He supposed that the brute was only in it for good pay. Or possibly enjoyed taking someones life. At that thought, the Austrian narrowed his eyes lightly, then sighed softly.
He had to remind himself to stop looking back on that man. He would not even think of his name. Just keep focused on other things. For the more he thought about him, the more Roderich became angered, and, slightly irritated. He did not want to go about his night like this. He just wanted to walk home, get inside his apartment, make tea and cake, then relax before going to bed. That was all. He should think of other things on his walk. Such as a song he should suggest the others to start with, or, what he should do in the mean time of the day before work. Such things as that. Thinking over a gangster was just ridiculous. He had to forget even hearing the mans name, or knowing that he was even ever there. He should be fine by doing so.
"Nein, nein. Sie nehmen ein Recht, und dass Sie auf dem Markt zu nehmen."
Roderich's ears suddenly prickled at the language he knew so well. Understanding every word that was said perfectly. He quickly lifted his gaze from the floor, to the front of himself, where he saw two men with long over coats standing near one another, talking over directions on how to get to a market apparently.
They did not even take the time to look at him. They just kept on with their conversation. He thought that he recognized them. However the Austrian brushed it off. They did not seem like they would bother him. His eyes moved to the hallway on the left, where the exit that the players were supposed to take, from what he remembered on the tour with Feliciano. Thus, walking past the two men, he went around the corner.
However, after taking a few steps after that turn, he suddenly stopped. Roderich couldn't move. He just couldn't. He was to taken by surprise, and shock. For there, only feet away and standing before the door, was that evil man.
Gilbert.
He had a cigarette in his mouth, his teeth clinching lightly to it as his gaze went from the same two men the young European had just passed, to him. Once under that same stare, he tensed lightly, his hands giving a slight twitch. Why was he here? Why was that damned mobster here? Out of all places? And in his way no less.
Slowly, the red eyed man grinned at him, as their hues meat. Seeing the expression across the Austrian's face. It was adorable. Not that he would say that to him. At lest not at the moment.
"Hello."
Gilbert started. Roderich, however, did not return the greeting. He only tried to recover at this point, his widened eyes going back to normal while his slightly opened mouth closed, his mental state returning after the man's appearance. He took a bit of notice that the men from behind had stopped talking, and were now more then likely watching them. To see this the Austrian looked over his shoulder, his theory proven right once he made eye contact with the two Germans.
"Don't worry about them. They won't hurt you. That is unless I tell them to."
Gilbert spoke while taking out the cigarette in his mouth, which turned the Austrian's attention back over to him. Roderich swallowed then, ignoring what he had said, before glancing at the door. Though when his gaze returned to the man before him, it narrowed in a warning manner, showing no fear towards the mobster boss.
"... You are in my way."
He finally said. Gilbert grinned wider at that. Was the Austrian trying to seem tough? Well if he was he was not doing a very good job at it at all. Sure, the stare may have shot down a few people, but not him. No. In fact, he found that the little glare made the musician even more adorable. He enjoyed seeing it. He really did. Along with that stern tone the man used. It only made that cute addance Roderich had to him shine brighter.
"Am I now?"
The boss asked as he looked over his shoulder and at the door. He stared at it for a moment, before turning his head back around, lifting the drug back to his lips, sucking the smoke quietly while the end lit up with a orange flame, but it died out once the mobster pulled it away from his lips.
"Maybe there is a reason for that, don't you think?"
Gilbert asked while smoke came out from his lips with each word, as he took a few steps forward. Out of reaction, Roderich moved back from the horrid man, trying to avoid him from getting close while still holding his gaze. It was then that one of the two German mobsters from behind pushed himself off the wall and went to go stop Roderich where he was. However Gilbert took notice, and rose his hand, as a sign for him to leave the Austrian be. Of course, he did as he was gestured to do, and now only stood in place. Roderich stopped, while Gilbert only neared.
"And the reasoning?"
Roderich asked. Was he scared of the ruling mobster? There was a small bit of fear in him, yes, but not enough to where he would cower under the man. He would keep strong, and push back that small amount of fear in him, making sure that it would not show to the brute that would more then likely find it amusing.
"I just wanted to meet you is all. You played nicely out there. Personally, I will admit, that I am a fan of the classics. However you truly bring them back to life... Where are you from?"
Well that was a rather random thing for the man to ask. Where did he come from? What does nationality have to do with his music?
"That is none of your business. Now step aside."
Roderich demanded. Gilbert paused at that, finally stopping when he was just a foot before his fellow European, staring down at him. Then he chuckled deeply. A strange sound he made being mixed into the light laughter.
'Kesesesese.'
"Well, aren't you a rude little priss?"
The mobster asked as he inhaled the smoke the cigarette had to offer once more. Then, pulling the stick away from his mouth to hold it between both his thumb and index finger, he blew out the smoke from his nostrils.
"I complemented you, yet, here you are telling me what I should do."
Gilbert continued. There was a slight pause, Roderich not fully knowing what to say at the moment, but, would come up with something. However, before he could start to think, suddenly Gilbert flicked the cigarette at the Austrian, which in turn made Roderich jump from the sudden action and take a large step back so that he would not get burned in any way. This made the mobster chuckle in that strange way again, while one of the two men smirked from behind, the other giving a smile of amusement himself. And before Roderich could do much more, his arm was suddenly gripped by the mob boss. In a strong, iron grasp. Roderich of course tried to get out of it, however, there was no chance as the hold only became tighter from his struggle.
"Ugh! Let me go this instant!"
The musician snapped at him in a demanding manner. Then the next thing he knew he was thrown to the wall, his shoulder taking most of the impact, which in turn made the Austrian flinch as his soft hat fell to the floor. He looked at Gilbert, the man who was now pinning him to the wall, to only see those dark red eyes narrowed, and a serious expression across his face. But that grin, turned into a smirk. The man was being stern, but, could not help but to still be amused by Roderich's actions, which was more then likely why he kept his lips curled.
"Tell me, do you know who I am?"
Gilbert asked as the grip tightened even more, to where Roderich thought that there may be marks left behind, even through his layers of clothing. However he did not focus upon that as much. He only stared back at the man who out matched his hight by about two inches. Not replying to the question as quickly as the boss may have wanted.
"Well? Do you, priss?"
The mobster urged for a answer. Roderich narrowed his eyes at that nickname the man was seemingly giving him for the time being, finding it rather annoying. Yet he had to keep focused on the situation as well. He knew the other men were watching, and would do whatever they could to help the head of their "family" get an answer. Thus, taking a deep breath, the Austrian let out a deep sigh.
"Gilbert Beilschmidt. A mobster boss of the Beilschmidt Family. A murderer."
Roderich finally replied. Gilbert rose a brow. So, he knew him then. Good. Made him save time on explaining. However that last part was yet another reason on why he had that urge to raise his brow at the other.
"Now, that's a rather nasty word to say. I look at it more to be 'a working man'."
The mobster replied, keeping his grip on the Austrian. Roderich snarled at that.
"Call it what you will then. It makes no difference on what you do."
He replied. Gilbert narrowed his eyes slightly more, and the smirk across his face became smaller. He was starting to become tired of the Austrian's little attitude now. In fact, it was starting to annoy him. But not by much.
"You know what, you're right. It doesn't. And, you know, being that form of business man pays off well, if you haven't heard... But, sometimes, I enjoy doing the same thing even after getting rid of troubling people."
The mobster boss spoke. Mean while, his free hand lowered, Roderich taking quick notice to this and looking down as his heart began to race even quicker then it already had been. Gilbert moved the coat out of the way then lifted his own suit slightly, to only show the gun that he had hidden under the clothing, it resting between his belted navy brown pants and tucked in, thin, white buttoned shirt. Roderich tensed at the shining silver. The very gun intimidating him. He knew that it was more then likely loaded to. Why wouldn't it be? It was a mobster's weapon. Gilbert's weapon. And him being a boss of a "family", there just had to be bullets in that barrel.
"Especially those that want to make me look like a fool."
Gilbert suddenly added. Roderich glanced up at him, then at the men from afar, who still watched them. Then the violet eyes went back to the dangerous, powerful mobster before him, not saying a word.
"Now. Like I said. I only wanted to meet you in person. Face to face... Here. Just give me your name and I will let you go home, hm? Does that sound fair?"
Gilbert asked with a tilt of his head, making sure the Austrian was looking right at him. Which he was. The musician blinked slowly. He knew that this man could kill him. Right here and now. And there was not a thing he can do about it. He had more strength then he did. Had a weapon, along with his two friends, who more then likely also had weapons. Even if he did get away, he would not get far. He did not have much of a choice but to give into the gangster, now did he?
"It's Roderich Edelstein."
He answered simply, his gaze narrowing a bit more. Glare and answer. That was all he could possibly do.
Gilbert's glare began to fade, and the stern expression did the same as well. He was satisfied with the new information that he was just given over the pianist that he, in fact, enjoyed.
Roderich Edelstein. Mm...
It was then Gilbert let go of him, and took a few steps back away from the Austrian. He straighten his nice tan suit, and fixed his over coat as well, looking formidable once more.
"There, see? Was that so hard?"
He asked. Roderich did not reply, he only kept his glaring eyes on the man, and stood his place. He did not know if he should snap at the man for acting out with such a behaviour or simply walk off to the exit. Both were not really good choices. Both may either get him hurt, or, possibly killed.
Gilbert glanced down at the floor then, took notice to the soft hat that was forced off of the Austrian's precious head. Then he lowered himself, gripping it gently with his fingers, then lifted himself back up to only hold it out for Roderich to have.
"Now... you may leave."
Gilbert gestured to the door with his head. For a moment, Roderich did not move, unsure if he should really make his way out or not. However, he decided for himself that he should. It did not seem that Gilbert was going to do much more to him and actually keep true to his words. Or so he hoped. Thus the Austrian decided to reach for his hat and snatch it from the man, then, in a somewhat quick pace, headed for the door while keeping his gaze on the German mobster, until after a few steps, then, he turned his head back around, opened the door, and with haste he headed home. His heart still beating his chest. Dear god...
Gilbert watched as the door closed behind the Austrian, still looking quite amused.
Even with fear, the Austrian was more then attractive. In fact, it only flared Gilbert's interest more.
The mobster boss turned his head to face his men then.
"I want files on that guy, do you hear me? All of his information you can scratch out in any way by tomorrow. Put it on my desk when you get it. Understood?"
Gilbert asked. Of course, the men did not question him. They nodded, and gave their words of understanmeant.
"Good. Let's get to the cars."
It was then Gilbert turned and walked for the head exit of the building where the cars were waiting for him, the two other Germans following him.
Needless to say... he wanted to have more then just that talk with the Austrian. He will be sure to come back for dinner at this very club tomorrow night to see him once more.
[ A/N: And there is chapter three, the first meeting. So! I hope you guys enjoyed it! Things will start to roll even better in the next chapter, then on! Being writen by Gilbert's settings and all for number four. So! Review for even more He's a Keeper!
