A/N: Part Three.

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Seta Moneta

-3-

"Do you like pasta?" Feliciano said. "I love pasta, it's my favorite thing. Possibly in the world."

They were sitting at a table in one corner, away from most of the customers. Romano had handed Ludwig a manila folder, complete with the glare, the moment they were back inside. It was filled with the brothers' bills from the past year or so, and Ludwig was currently checking it over to make sure there were no discrepancies.

The brothers were very responsible, for all that their appearances misled. They seemed to put the restaurant before themselves, buying ingredients and paying salaries before thinking of the necessities that they needed. Their only downfall was probably their taste in clothing—both brothers seemed to lean towards the more expensive clothes on the spectrum.

"Our grandfather always dressed us nicely," Feliciano explained. "I guess we just got used to it. We haven't been shopping in a while though, not since we started to…" he trailed off, but Ludwig got the gist of it. It was all laid out in writing in front of him.

Suddenly, his cell phone went off. He recognized the name on the caller ID and answered it.

"Hello," he said, holding up one finger to Feliciano to tell him to be patient.

"Hello, Mr. Ludwig," Kiku said on the other end. "I am at the hotel now but you were not in your room. Might I inquire where you are?"

"Oh yeah, sorry about that. I went for a walk and ended up running into our client. I'm down at the restaurant if you want to come by; the address is on my bureau I think…"

"Alright, I will be right over with the paperwork." There was a click as the call disconnected and Ludwig sighed. He had forgotten that both brothers needed to sign some papers before he could officially start working for them.

"Who was that?" Feliciano asked curiously.

"My business partner, Kiku Honda. He's been enjoying your country all day; he's quite enamored of it."

"Ve, that's good!" Feliciano leaned forward, resting on his elbows. "What about you? Do you like Italy?"

"Its… its nice, but I find that my home suits me quite well."

"I've been up there before, in Austria. I'm afraid it doesn't suit me at all."

Ludwig laughed a little at that—a brief chuckle. It really was hard to picture Feliciano up there.

Kiku arrived at the restaurant not half an hour later. Ludwig presumed that he had taken a taxi or one of those motorcycle things that were everywhere (though he really couldn't see the Japanese man on one of those things).

Ludwig introduced Kiku to Feliciano and vice versa, and it was very clear that the two would be good friends, as they seemed to share interest in quite a few things. When Feliciano moved to go make pasta for the three of them, however, both Kiku and Ludwig stopped him.

"Mr. Vargas, I would like to ask you to sign some papers for us, before we get started working for you."

"Oh, sure!" Feliciano took the papers that were handed to him and signed them each with in big curly letters.

Ludwig took one of the papers and peered at the signature. "F V V? What does the first 'V' stand for?"

"Ah, that's a nickname that my grandfather gave me. 'Veneziano'."

"Like the Caffe?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, he named it after me. Or me after the Caffe, I suppose… I'm not sure which of us came first."

"You seemed to have been very close to your grandfather if he did all that for you. What about your brother?" Kiku asked, ever polite.

Feliciano looked hesitant. "Romano—that is, Lovino, his real name—he didn't spend a lot of time with me and my grandfather. He was jealous of me—that's what my grandfather said, anyway—and didn't get along with a lot of people. We grew closer after Grandpa died but… I never changed the sign."

Ludwig cautioned a glance to the kitchens where he knew Romano was. Sure, Feliciano was far more outgoing than his twin, but would a grandfather really choose one grandson over the other?

He thought about his own grandfather and how Gilbert had gotten to spend more time with him than Ludwig had. He'd never held it against his brother, and he'd been able to get closer to his grandfather later on.

"If you'll excuse me, I will take these papers to your brother to get his signature." Kiku excused himself from the table and headed for the kitchens, leaving Ludwig alone with Feliciano.

"I know what you're thinking," Feliciano said. "But my grandfather was not a cold man. He loved Romano; it was Romano who could not seem to love him."

Ludwig opened his mouth to reply, even though he wasn't sure what he was going to say, when a loud and heavily accented voice interrupted.

"What's this about Romano? Did something happen to him?"

They both looked up at the new figure, a tall Spanish man. Ludwig recognized him as Gilbert's friend, Antonio. He was looking rather worried.

"Ve, Antonio, fratello is fine. We were just talking about… something else."

Antonio glanced over at Ludwig and smiled. "Ludwig! Wow, you're so grown up now! The last time I saw you—"

"I'm really not that much younger than you, you know," Ludwig interrupted. He'd tenuously grown up around Antonio because of Gilbert, and the man seemed to love to reminisce.

"Ve, you know Antonio, Ludwig?"

"Yes, he was the one who called in the favor to my brother."

"Well I know that Vash would have trained you well. How is Gilbert by the way? Still pining after Elizabeta?"

Ludwig clucked and shook his head. His brother's obsession with himself was rivaled by an obsession with only one other person—and that person was already married. Ludwig was kind of glad that he was able to get away from the house for a while—Gilbert got demanding when he was depressed.

"Francis is looking after him currently, unless, of course, he's off gallivanting somewhere… or with someone."

"Hmm, Francis in Germany? And he said he didn't like the German women." Antonio moved to take a chair, but seemed to change his mind at the last moment. "It must have taken a while to convince him to go there."

"I think that Canadian he knows—that loud American's brother?—said something about wanting to go there."

Antonio nodded as if that explained something, though Ludwig was sure he'd never understand what. He never liked to delve too deeply into the antics of the Bad Trio. "Well," the Spaniard said. "If you'll excuse me I'd like to go see Romano."

Feliciano smiled and waved after him. Ludwig just held his fingers up to his temples and began to rub them in smooth circles. It wasn't the first time he'd gotten a headache just thinking about his brother.

"Ve, so you have a brother then? Just like me!"

"Oh, yeah, his name is Gilbert. He's older than me, but that doesn't seem to make him more mature."

"Si, I know what you mean. Romano is older by two whole minutes but…" Feliciano smiled softly. "I still worry. He promised that he'd be the one to take care of things after Grandpa died but I know that he's taking things badly. Like the restaurant… closing."

Ludwig began to pack up some papers into the manila folder. He wished he had his briefcase, but then again this whole meeting had been spur-of-the-moment.

"Ve, are you leaving already?"

Ludwig glanced at his watch. It was three o' clock, and he had checked just that morning to make sure it was set to the right time. He'd been there for at least two hours.

"Yes, but I'll be back tomorrow—"

"Oh, good!" Feliciano said. "Are you sure you don't want to stay and eat?"

"No thank you, I don't really like pasta all that much."

Feliciano's smile faltered, but only for a moment. "Then I'll just have to make it really yummy so you start to like it!"

Ludwig couldn't help it—he smiled back. "Maybe tomorrow."

"For breakfast, then!"

Ludwig winced inwardly at the idea of pasta for breakfast, but didn't comment. He scanned over the restaurant once more and saw Kiku motioning for the door. He nodded once to his partner and turned back to Feliciano.

"It looks like business has picked up a little," he said, and maybe that was a twinge of hope in his voice.

Feliciano shrugged. "It's funny, how restaurants work. There always seems to be an empty table, even at the best restaurant." He seemed to be pointedly ignoring that there were nine or ten empty tables.

Ludwig did the same, saying a quick good bye and heading for the door. Then he was outside in the mid-afternoon Italian sun, Kiku flagging down a taxi and saying some kind of warning about how fast Italians drive.

And Ludwig made a promise, right there outside the Caffe Veneziano. Favor or not, he would help the Vargas brothers. He would help Feliciano make sure that there were no empty tables anymore—not one.