This one features a bit of a bigger use of an OC; the longtime servant/butler Henrik, who is actually playing the role he's more used to(instead of a background guy who keeps almost walking in on those two, heh.) I know use of OCs in fanfic can be iffy, but he remains a fairly minor character all told-more or less someone to bounce off of in terms of dialogue.

Henrik's first appearance was in A Restless Night, in a minor role, where some of his background with the family was explained(though it doesn't need to be known in full to read this, so no worries.)

Sighing deeply, Adelheid violently yanked off his tie as he stormed into the Sky Noah's main living room, throwing it to the side. His sister had excused herself to her quarters; everything that transpired bothered her far less.

Sure enough, the young man's keen instinct was correct; he knew this night's meeting was going to go sour at some point. He had done enough of these the past few years-ever since his father's death several tournaments ago when he was promoted to the patriarch of the family when he had barely even seen his eighteenth birthday-to know which ones would go smoothly, which ones were setups, and everything in between.

To be fair, this one could have been worse, as they did not seem to be setting them up. He and Rose had checked all of the discreet paperwork and the shipments; they indeed should have gotten to their destination, and when he heard that something had gone wrong with the shipment, he had gotten a sinking feeling that this group was likely one of the ones who wanted to try to extort them. He didn't think they were working with a rival; but simply a group that wanted to try to put one over on them now that the younger Bernsteins were in charge instead of the elder. Some syndicates would figure the younger ones had to be pushovers.

Henrik-his family's oldest and most long-time servant, who had essentially helped raise the two siblings since they were children-had followed the fuming Adelheid into the main room, closing the door quietly behind him as he watched the young man fling his suit jacket off to the floor; there was a not-insignificant amount of blood spatter, though his tastes in colors were dark-black, dark blues, dark reds, and the like, so it didn't show up all that much. Plus, he only had to dispatch one-the most immediate threat-who had jumped at him with a long knife. He did it quickly and violently enough to end the problem quickly; it only took a single Genocide Cutter to the head to end the man.

Unfortunately, major head wounds bleed . Profusely.

Afterward, he took his seat again at the end of the table, his red eyes scanning the other men, almost asking if anyone else wanted to try something.

The rest cowered back after that and rethought their priorities, quickly agreeing to the deal as originally planned and ending the meeting with nary a negative word to be said. The one who had been sitting closest to the dispatched fellow was a rather telling shade of greenish-white the rest of the time and had begun to chain-smoke.

It still angered Adel, though. For a multitude of reasons.

He collapsed in a chair as he first unbuttoned his shirt and then pulled his dress boots off; he looked at the blood on his hands afterward that had come off of one of them. He made a fist, gritting his teeth.

Henrik shook his head. "Master Adelheid, you could just hand me your suit instead of throwing it."

"I hate these things," he growled. "They remind me of him . They all say how much I remind them of him when I wear them." Meaning, of course, his father, who often wore them, and would end up likely killing a few people after some sort of meeting. People would say how much he looked like a younger version of him when he wore one, and his sister would praise him as a worthy successor. "I'm nothing like him," he snarled, more to himself than to Henrik.

"No, you aren't," Henrik said.

Adel snorted. "I did kill that man easily enough."

"To be completely fair, sir, he did try to kill you rather violently." Somehow, Henrik's straight face, speaking a sentence like this while he did his servant's duties nonchalantly, made the situation all the more absurd. He placed the tie off to the side and gave him a towel to wipe the blood from his hands.

"Yes, he did. But I did it so damned easily ," he replied coldly, noticing that Henrik had dampened the towel with warm water first. He then yanked off his shirt and threw that down, too. He didn't particularly think the would-be killer would be missed, either.

Shaking his head, he took the shirt, putting that with the tie as he instead walked over to the shelf, selecting one of the finer bottles of red wine to pour a glass of for the young man, without being asked. He knew how rough this night had been. Adelheid had mentioned to him beforehand that he had a bad feeling about this one. It could have been worse , at least, as some had gone far worse than this. "You did what you had to. Nothing more."

Adelheid snorted again, taking the wine. "Thank you," he said, drinking off half the glass immediately. "And I suppose." He remembered Rose's smirk as the man hit the ground, thankfully face down, though the blood pooled on the carpet rather quickly-he knew it would be gone the next day, though, thanks to the quick action of the servants who had grown used to it. He had agreed with his sister to keep the family business running, so long as it was somewhat less illicit than before. Still shady, for sure, but far less ruthless, and he insisted on using some of the funds for good. Rose was not bothered by this; she was not straight evil like their father had been, but she had gotten his ruthless ambition and incredible pride of their family name.

He also remembered Heidern the one night where he had to take out yet another one of his attackers. "I too, have had to kill men with guns pointed at me with the intent to kill," the Colonel's words echoed.

Henrik saw he was still bothered. "Trust me, sir, you are nothing like him. You do not have his heart." Rugal, at his absolute best, was cordial to a handful of people and no more. "He never had the capability to love, I don't think. Maybe as a child, but I did not know him then."

Swirling the wine in his glass, he took a smaller sip this time as he leaned back in the chair, down to his suit pants now. They too needed cleaning, though he would finish changing soon enough. He wasn't sure why he would bring up something so odd with him, or what love had to do with anything that happened tonight. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Master Adelheid," Henrik said as he picked up Adelheid's suit jacket to have it properly dry cleaned, "Do you think, as they say, I was born yesterday?" he smiled gently.

Adel looked at him after drinking some more of the wine, silently. Henrik took the glass to refill it after the young man had emptied it. He did have a thirst some nights, the servant thought to himself, though he didn't often go to excess. Turning back to him with the glass and handing it to him, he smiled. "Your heart belongs to Lady Seriah," he said. "You think I cannot tell?"

Adelheid blinked, his eyebrows raised as he downed half the glass at a gulp again. "You know that we're dating," he said. It wasn't like they kept it a secret, even though they were fairly discreet. Why would he bring this up?

"That's not what I meant," he said, placing the clothing and the boots off to the side and walking over to him to refill his glass again. "It is more than that, I think. I can tell by how much happier you have been, despite all of the strange happenings going on. And I saw your favorite ring around your lady's neck." Henrik too knew there were strange things. He had gotten a bad feeling from some of the people he had seen Rose meet with more in private-people whom she didn't even tell Adelheid about more than 'she was using them for a few things.' He had suspected they were associated with Those from the Past, which he and Heidern knew little more about than a name.

Adel scratched the back of his head, somewhat driven to his more quiet self by the old man as he thought. He wasn't sure how to answer. Henrik had seen him date...maybe the two or three times he even bothered to. And those lasted all of one night. Dinner, a friendly hug, and good night; no one stayed, and he had no interest beyond that. While it wasn't any secret he and Seirah were together, he didn't discuss his true feelings with anyone there, and most of their affections were kept to more private places. He smiled, though, when he heard Henrik refer to the necklace.

"I...yes," he finally replied. "Yes, I do. More than you know," he said, drinking off more of the wine. He smiled slightly, knowing the old man knew how to read him. Standing up, he decided to throw on a pair of jeans instead, tossing the slacks over to the area where the rest of his suit was before going back to the table. He stayed silent.

"I'm sure you have reasons for keeping your true feelings guarded," Henrik replied. "But trust me. You are not your father. You protect your family. You always have; you looked after Rose so very well and protected her as long as I could remember, and still do, even though she has changed somewhat. I know you have been trying to figure that out." He looked keenly at him. "And now I see you finally may have opened your heart to someone. And...while I may not know Lady Seirah like you do, I have learned to read people over the years out of necessity, and I can tell that she likely feels the same. Not that I think you hide it from one another."

He scratched his head, getting the slight sheepish look he could at times. It was strange; when dealing with the people he was used to dealing with he was professional, assertive, and would fight at a moment's notice if he had to. But around Seirah he was relaxed and caring-sometimes a little bold when it came to more intimate things, if that very evening's activities out by the grove before the big meeting was any indication. But he would still close up if other people started to read him too accurately.

Sipping more of the wine-allowing Henrik to refill his glass again after-he sighed, sitting back in his chair again. "I still don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be doing."

"You're twenty-two, sir. I don't think you have to have it all figured out by now."

"I own a billion-dollar syndicate with my sister that I'm supposed to keep going for the family name. I try to keep it a little cleaner these days-there are things I won't touch-but it is what it is. I have been trying to figure out the people Rose has been dealing with nowadays without my knowledge, because I always swore to protect our family and I feel they are up to something big. And at least two or three times a month we have attempts on our lives that I need to sort out the hard way." He laughed bitterly, drinking some more. "Of course, my father was also the biggest criminal in the world for awhile, so there's that, too. I think our enemies are endless."

Henrik simply looked at the young man, letting him vent.

"I suppose I have things fairly well together." He trailed off, staring at the class as he swirled it before touching the extra earring in his left ear. "But Seirah...makes things feel more normal than they ever have in my life."

It was true; ever since that first date-when she had fallen asleep against him in this very room, on the couch after they had drunk several pints-there had been a sense of calm that he had never felt before. Someone whose presence soothed him. Adelheid often looked laid back, and he truly was...mostly, at least. But he absolutely held a fair level of frustration and anger at the situation-with his dealings, his past, the attempts on his family's lives, and now, Those from the Past, and his sister acting more and more strange.

She was always able to soothe him, though; and he could do the same with her.

Looking up again at the old man, he had sorted his suit out into the laundry. He looked back at him.

"Sir," Henrik started. "Your disdain for these...why do you wear them?"

Adelheid shrugged. "Guess I figured it was expected of me." He told him the same thing he had told Seirah one night when she had seen him in one and he bristled some.

"You can wear what you like, you know. You're not your father, after all."

He closed his eyes, sighing again. Opening them, he chuckled, nodding. "I know." Maybe I should.

Henrik bowed, placing the wine on the table next to him. "As always, call if you need, Master Adelheid." He stepped out, leaving the young man to his own thoughts.

Getting up to look out window-something he liked doing, especially when the air was cool-he thought about a few things.

Whip had taken the streetcar back to the hotel; she had already called, and Adelheid had came immediately there after the deal he had made that evening. They were both free, now, for a couple of days. It had been two days since their little trip to the grove, which admittedly stuck with her that weekend. They were going to have dinner tonight before going back to the Sky Noah together for a couple of days for some much-desired privacy. Not a particularly fine dining place-despite having more money than he knew what to do with he usually ended up with his fill of foie gras and other nonsense thanks to his servants, and Whip was fine with a more moderate place as well.

Seeing him standing there, she blinked; she had been expecting to see him in the suit he usually wore to whatever functions he was going to since he said he was coming directly there.

He had seemed instead to adopt a very fine looking black, leather long coat-different from the more casual one he'd throw on to go out and about-which he wore over a more muscle-style tank top instead of what he had worn before. These were combined with black jeans which were tucked into those his usual, favored metal-endowed boots. He cut a bit of a different look-though still thoroughly himself. If anything, this look was even more himself. He had decided to take Henrik's advice to heart.

It seemed to serve to intimidate the other gentlemen he had to deal with tonight, too.

Looking him up and down, she was dressed in her overcoat and usual brown military outfit; she usually opened the button-down shirt afterward, though given they were going out to dinner she had kept it on. Her eyebrows raised.

"You look...a lot more comfortable," she said, smiling, reaching out to touch his hand. He took it. She also thought his current look made him even sexier somehow, though she didn't mention that. Not that she had to; her face was generally an easy giveaway with him.

He gave her the little shrug that he would, his long bangs hanging somewhat in his face. "Might as well try something different." He moved his hand so his fingers locked with hers as they stood under the awning.

Whip wasted no time to push forward, moving some of his hair out of the way to kiss him, pressing close to him. "Let's go. Our reservation is soon. You look hungry."

He nodded after the kiss broke. "Very," he replied with a smirk, before they started to move toward their destination, both of them looking forward to their small window of normalcy for the next two days.

Much like Solitude was inspired by a quote on a KOF All Star card, this too had some inspiration from one which stated "He promises himself again to walk a different path than his father." So perhaps he took a couple of steps, even if it was just his outfit. And, well, the fact he actually has feelings for someone. (the 'metal endowed boots', I could never tell for sure but in game it always looked like his boots were ringed with iron. I guess to make the GCs extra special.)

This fic also mentions parts from at least four other fics in this 'series'. The ring was exchanged back in A Restless Night with one of Whip's earrings. "That Evening's Activities by the grove" where it discusses how he was bolder around Whip, are discussed in Private Time, which is a rather...ahh, heavily rated fic, and if you easily blush, it can be passed over, but it's there for those who enjoy that sort of thing and want more context.

The date where she had fallen asleep against him was from Etude of Revolution(the big one.) The incident where Heidern had mentioned to him about self-defense was the first in the series, Dark Legacies.

Apologies for all the call-backs in this since I do try to get them to stand alone, but that's just how this one turned out, oops.