Yes, And– Oh... Oh Dear

One thing Elizaveta had never been able to do was get anything about of Heracles. That usually did not matter, because Heracles did not live here. But he came often enough of when he came to her inn to get a drink on a rare occasion she would try and pry what he was thinking out.

Apparently all he was thinking was I want a drink. It was rather disappointing.

Still, he sat down on the other side of Erin and they had a conversation which consisted of occasionally looking at each other and Elizaveta was almost certain Erin said something like 'hi' at one point, but could not be certain. She was busy organizing which of the mugs had not been used in a while and therefore should be put into the kitchen to be rinsed out in the sink when the door opened. She glanced up to see someone who was very obviously depressed.

"Gilbert? What's wrong?"

"I..." he started, but looked over at the other two and seemed reluctant. Elizaveta wiped her hands off on her apron and walk around the counter to him.

"Come on, in the back with you." She took him by the hand and pulled him into the back. For a moment she stared at Roderich. She knew the man was not against alcohol, but she had never actually seen him drink. "Roderich?"

"Dear, I'm Austrian," he replied as he sipped at his glass. It would have all been fine, if Gilbert had made some sort of comment. Insulted Roderich or his heritage... She might not have been happy with it, but it was just the sort of thing that Gilbert did. "What is ever wrong with him?"

"Oh hush," she scowled at him, making Gilbert sit down, which he did without any complaint. "Do you need something?"

Finally Gilbert seemed to be snapping out of whatever he was in, looking up at her. She was quite aware of where he was looking and waited for the sentence which would prove that he was being a jerk again. He just looked back at the ground.

"I... nearly killet Francis. I put mustart in his sandvich."

"Oh my God... is he all right?" she asked, stroking his hair back. From the corner of her eyes she noticed that Roderich was paying attention. Please do not be getting jealous sweetie, I'm just being comforting to a friend. Please to not be jealous.

"Ja... Alfred sait he't be fine." Despite saying that Gilbert looked no better. Roderich had stood up and was at his side, holding out his glass.

"Then do not look so blue, unless you would have rather your attempt have worked." Elizaveta opened her mouth, but Roderich went on. "Hopefully this means the both of you are finished trying to attack each other."

Gilbert took the bottle from Roderich's hand instead and took a swig of it. "Shut it, prick. Of course I didn't vant him to die."

"Then be grateful as opposed to upset."

"Vhat if he hates me?"

"You would have deserved it, wouldn't you? Then again, that would be hypocritical of him, considering how bruised you've been lately."

Elizaveta was not exactly certain what was going on, but from what she could tell the both of them were actually having a somewhat civil conversation with each other while she was in the same room. And Roderich already seemed slightly tipsy. How much had he had? And why was he not being jealous if he was drunk?

Roderich had sat down in one of the other kitchen chairs again, pulling Elizaveta into his lap. Elizaveta, however, was not exactly certain if that constituted as being jealous.

"Vhere did I go vrong?" Gilbert was muttering as he went and grabbed another bottle. Usually she would have told him to stop, but she figured considering the situation she could let him vent. At least, she could have if he had not tried to sit on her.

"Gilbert!"

"You are fat, Beilschmidt."

"Shut it, Edelstein. I'fe got a few vords to say to you." Elizaveta pushed Gilbert off and stood up, ready to end this before they started to fight. "How shoult I know if you're goot enough for Liz, huh?"

"And you think you're a good judge of good?"

"Plenty!"

"Boys, please..." Elizaveta started, but Gilbert grabbed Roderich by the collar and... and...

Was kissing him. Elizaveta stared, a conflict of her interests welling up within her. She should be jealous. She should be yelling at Gilbert. Actually, no she should not. She should simply be waiting for Roderich to push him away.

Elizaveta found herself waiting for an entire minute before she realized that Roderich was not pushing Gilbert away. Then she started to giggle like mad.

When Gilbert loudly demanded for her to join them she did not even think about protesting the entire situation even once.


Notes:

Elizaveta could die happy now. And while I am not against Gilbert/Roderich or Elizaveta/Roderich/Gilbert or any combination thereof, I was still not expecting to write it for a long time. Or at all, for Hearth. Proof that characters can run away with themselves. Still, this sort of situation has been coming for a while. *insert a slightly surprised author here*