Staying awake was one of the easiest things we had learned to do in our training, as it didn't involve a lot of fighting for the first few days. For some people it was fairly difficult, Feliciano, I remember, had a very hard time and lost every fight initiated while in his sleep deprived state. Alfred had a rather difficult time as well, mostly because he was too hyperactive during the day and wore himself out quickly.
I went over the different techniques we were taught in order to stay awake while Mr. Beilschmidt breathed deeply in his sleep. I watched the shadows creep across the room as the sun rose in the sky, and Mr. Bielschmidt's breaths grew shallower as he neared consciousness.
When Mr. Bielschmidt awoke I was very aware of it, though he did not move. I waited, pondering what he was planning to do, before I heard the faintest rustling and a long green stick stuck out the side of the bed aiming for my thigh. I questioned the action before smelling the metallic scent of electricity that I was sure was lacing through the green rod. I wasn't quite sure what to do, either I let him burn me and 1. ruin his clothes for me and 2. be hindered in my movement for the time it takes my leg to heal. I could be displeasing him if I were to just take it, though the fact that he could be testing me was the most believable option, so I side stepped the rod swiftly, being sure to remain in a place that gives me full access to the room and all entries, including the window.
Mr. Bielschmidt sat up quickly, and I heard the audible click of the electric rod turning off.
He smirked at me quickly before schooling his face into disinterest. He threw back the thick sheets and removed himself carefully from the bed and turning to me almost as quickly, and before he could fully raise the gun he held to my head, I plucked it from his hand and checked the cartridge, making sure it was loaded for future use. I switched on the safety and placed the gun back in his open hand, his eyes were wide in temporary shock.
"You have an appointment in three hours." I said, as Mr. Bielschmidt forced his face once again into indifference, but there was still the twinkle of mischief in his crimson eyes.
He strode forward and I kept pace with him, only falling a few paces behind him, ready for anything.
He was silent as he turned a corner and spun to look at me.
"Go get Vargas and both of you wait outside my closet door, be armed and ready to move, the both of you." He sneered at me, pulling a facade of superiority, which was entirely unnecessary. I figured he was displeased at my disarming him earlier, though inconsistency would not bode well for the relationship I must have with him as his protector.
Without another look at me he threw the big door of his closet open and stepped inside, slamming the door behind him. I wished I had been able to perform a perimeter check of the room he was entering before he was able to enter, but I had another task to do.
I strode across the room, and for the first time noticed how the buttons of my shirt weren't buttoned correctly, and how they pulled to show a small expanse of my chest. It was a small yet embarrassing blight I would be sure to never let happen again. I rightened the shirt as I pulled myself through the wardrobe to the room Lovino and I shared.
The smaller Italian jumped dramatically when I entered the room, and his face reddened in embarrassment. I surveyed the room as he mustered up the courage to ask me where I was, and counted the seconds before moving to the dresser and pulling out a slightly silky long-sleeved, black collard shirt, and black pants to go with the nice looking black shoes I found underneath the dresser.
"I suggest you get dressed, Mr. Beilschmidt wants us outside his dressing room before he leaves it." I said, as Lovino opened his mouth to finally ask me about my whereabouts that night. He grunted and walked to the dresser adjacent to my own, and pulling out a more casual white polo shirt and black pants.
We changed in silence, and I was displeased to see him watching me as I pulled on the shirt I was given.
I walked to the dresser again, enjoying the range of motion the combination of clothing gave me and the awareness and also accessibility to the weapons I carried. Lovino gave me a questioning look when I pulled open the doors once again, though walked to my side when he heard the slight dispel of air the opening of the passageway gave.
"This would be the best point of entry in order to enter Mr. Beilschmidt's quarters in timely fashion." Lovino gave a odd accepting look then shook his head in what I believed to be disbelief before pulling himself through the aperture.
I entered after him and almost felt the need to grab his arm and tug him to the doors on the other side of the room as he looked at me aimlessly, a look of pondering crossing his face.
I started off towards the doors, and thankfully my roommate followed or my dragging would not have been quite as unfounded. We had barely made ourselves presentable outside the door before it was flung open once again and Mr. Beilschmidt walked out in expensive and sleek attire of a grey pinstripe suit and a white Brioni shirt. He smoothed his slicked hair back, a look that looked unnatural on him, and tested the length of the arms of the suit. His eyes flickered up towards Lovino and I and his lips puckered minutely before he diverted his eyes towards the doors that would need to be left in order for the day to begin.
"Your appointment starts in two and a half hours Sir." I said, and I saw Lovino's eyes slide towards the face of Mr. Beilschmidt then to mine out of my peripheral vision.
Mr. Beilschmidt scowled before striding towards the doors, I had anticipated the action but Lovino fumbled to recover the distance between us and him as we made our exit. Lovino made his way to open the doors and exited the room first while I waited with Mr. Beilschmidt, who seemed impatient and eager to leave. After Lovino opened the door more we exited the room in a diagonal line, Lovino in front of Mr. Beilschmidt to the right, and me to the left and slightly behind.
I felt slightly uncomfortable to not be in the lead, but I had to remind myself that my priority was to ensure the absolute safety of Mr. Beilschmidt, and having range from the front and back was something I needed. Mr. Beilschmidt scratched his forehead and blinked tiredly and sometimes his eyes would begin to stray towards me, but would flicker back towards something else like the platinum watch that hung on his wrist.
We turned more than a few corridors before reaching the dining hall, and Mr. Beilschmidt's jaw was twitching in irritation by then. Despite everything I had run through my head, I had no idea what could be bothering my charge, but his irritation seemed to be building.
"Vargas." He said simply before the doors to the hall could be opened, and when Lovino turned to respond to Beilschmidt I was too shocked by the upcoming action to stop it, and the heel of Mr. Beilschmidt's hand flew upwards to ultimately break Lovino's nose with a harsh crack that was loud in the silence of the hallways. Blood seemed to gush out of Lovino's nose and his hands flew to hold it, his eyes widening in shock then squinting again when the pain registered.
Mr. Beilschmidt opened the doors of the hall and stepped inside, looking back expectantly at me. I walked with him before his expectant expression could turn to annoyance, and wondered if this man was as sadistic as he was making himself out to be. I could see the malicious humour that would sometimes dance in his eyes, but I hand't seen his character to be as such in my mental profile. Maybe I wasn't correct in my assumptions?
"Are you even paying attention?" Beilschmidt said, and I was almost hurt that he would even think such a thing. I was too aware, of everything, all the time. I was aware of the types of curtains hung on the oversized windows, the area and perimeter of such windows, the servants that stood almost exactly eleven and a half inches apart who lines the room, the silver wear that was actually pure silver that glinted in the chandelier that was made of diamonds and crystals, all hung from a pure silver frame. The paintings that decorated the ceiling were from an artist I didn't recognise, which was odd, because I had researched painters in my free time in the Institute. All while watching my charge and wondering if he was a sadist.
"Of course Sir." I said, and he scoffed in disbelief, his scowl twitched then deepened. "Don't call me Sir." He said, and his lips puckered again for a second.
Before I could ask him what I should call him, the doors to the room were opened slowly and widely. Mr. Beilschmidt quickly sat down in one of the many chairs that lined the excessively long table within the room and placed a silk serviette in his lap. Even more servants walked out of the doors and into the room, holding platters of food that were presented one by one in front of Mr. Beilschmidt. When Mr. Beilschmidt had chosen his meal I was grateful; the amount of people within the area of him and his charge was slightly unsettling, though nothing was tried. I was aware that before Mr. Beilschmidt could eat his meal he had to wait for a small paper with a blood sample of the food taster's blood on it. If it were the same colour of normal blood then it was un-poisoned, though if it were blue it was indeed poisoned.
After a few minutes, and Mr. Beilschmidt's leg starting to shake, the paper came, along with a large cup of coffee in a fairly inexpensive looking mug. Mr. Beilschmidt had one look at the cup and his expression softened exponentially into relief before hardening once again into impatience. He was given the paper dotted red with the taster's blood, and the cup, and he immediately drained the coffee a smile almost reaching his face when he put it down. The cup was automatically refilled and drained once again, despite the seat I knew rose from the cup when filled. The drink must be very important to him depending on the reverence of which he held the cup when he set it down to begin his meal.
Seeing the excellently made food made me somewhat hungry, but I distracted myself by reviewing the events of the morning. I was disturbed by fact Lovino had been watching me change, I knew my scars were something not commonly seen, nor my tattoo, but there had to be a level of common decency that would stop Lovino from such staring. But he had done it anyway, which was a great character development I had to my analysis of the man.
Mr. Beilschmidt finished his meal, and sat back in his chair for a few minutes, almost pointedly ignoring me.
"You haven't eaten anything since you arrived here correct?" He said loudly, causing some of the servants that lined the hall to look at me in concern. They should learn to school their facial expressions into indifference if they want the job of a servant.
"No I haven't." I said, purposefully leaving off the Sir, this time.
"I wonder when you will have time to eat." He said aloud, but pushed a smirk onto his face. He flung himself from his chair and spun to another door that led to the elevators on this floor and paced towards it. Two more official looking servants lined these doors and nodded when Gilbert made to open the door. I was aware that there were two more servants on the other side of the door, both armed and ready for any oncoming attack so I let Mr. Beilschmidt walk through the door first.
We made our way down the halls, I watched him and our surroundings and he watched the hallways he was walking down. We passed a long line of portraits, of which I assumed to all be his pre descendants. Though when we neared the end of the line, his hand divulged into his pocket and fished out a small knife, about the size of my index finger, and flung it with deadly accuracy at the forth to last painting where it struck with a resounding thud.
When we got closer I noticed the other slits in the painting where other daggers had made their impact, scattering everywhere on the man's frame and there were many. Mr. Beilschmidt didn't seem to think much of it, but he did look at me for a few moments afterward, as if to see if I were to ask him about the action. When I didn't he pressed his lips together and shook his head, his eyes darting towards the floor then back to the long hallway.
"Your appointment starts in one hour Sir."
-_- ^-^ ;_; O.o O.O 'o'
Well I know I haven't updated in a long time, but I am very happy to give you this chapter. IT IS NOT A FILLER. Lots of things happened in this chapter that I really hope you guys picked up on. It is going to be a roller coaster of emotions and unspoken truths in this story so you have to be perceptive of habits and traits. Or you could just ask me, which ever works for you. I was hesitant about this story for the reason that I have no idea about crime culture, and how I was going to depict Gilbert within this story. I think I have some idea now, but if you guys have any references that would be great. I hope you liked it, and if you have any questions please don't hesitate to ask me. Though don't ask me about why Gilbert broke Lovi's nose, that will become evident in a while perhaps.
-Serenity Ma Sogni