The Dinner:
Elizaveta uses the back of her hand and wipes at her cheek, then glances down at her hand. Nothing. She huffs and repeats the action with more effort, but it seems she's either wiping in the wrong spot or not with enough force. Finally, Ludwig just reaches over and wipes it for her, revealing the streak of white on his gloved hand.
"Thanks," she says, then dips her roller back into the paint and resumes her section of the wall. "I forgot what was I saying." Elizaveta continues midway through where she left off on the wall. When Ludwig sighs, she glances over at him, where he sits diligently painting his side of the wall.
"You want me to stop?" Elizaveta asks dejectedly.
Ludwig doesn't look away from his work but answers honestly. "Well, yes. I invited you here to get your mind off of the case and Gilbert."
"And as free help to paint your living room." Elizaveta interjects playfully, but her friend doesn't laugh.
"I'm serious."
Elizaveta looks back at her glistening wall of fresh paint, bending a bit to make sure it reaches the floor. "So am I. I don't have anyone else to talk to about this. I can't tell Vash for obvious reasons. Gilbert isn't around for me to ask questions, and Francis is more inclined to ignore me than talk to me. What do you expect me to do?"
"Take a break from it," Ludwig says emphatically, and she turns to see that he is looking down at her.
"But-"
"A break."
Elizaveta huffs. "Just hear me out for five minutes and I won't talk about it again."
Ludwig concedes. "Fine, five minutes, and you missed a spot in the corner."
The brunette looks back at the wall, correcting her error. She shifts down to her knees to paint better, and the plastic tarp on the floor squeaks as she situates herself and wets the paint roller again. "It's too much of a coincidence to ignore, I think. Gil is wanted for murder and then the whole Antonio Vargas thing." She furrows her brows and rubs the roller over the grey paint on the wall. "Why would the guy give a fake name to rent such a crappy apartment at the same time Lovino's court case is going on? Then, he leaves after the verdict and has been a ghost ever since, to the point a private investigate can't properly get a hold of him."
In her peripheral vision, she can see Ludwig crouching down as well. "And you think Gilbert is somehow involved with Antonio or Lovino?"
"Antonio, definitely. " Elizaveta answers quickly. "I don't know about his connection to Lovino though. Do you know who this guy is, though? I've done research and the Vargas family dates back centuries with very few convictions under their belt, all in Italy, none in this country. I just can't shake the feeling that there's some connection, but I don't know what or why. If the police haven't caught them after decades of suspicion, I highly doubt this one case will tip the scale."
"So Vash hasn't impressed you yet?" Ludwig wagers, "According to the news, there has been some surprising new evidence in the case, even without Gilbert present."
The snort that follows proves just how 'impressed' Elizaveta is. "I don't doubt Vash's persistence, but I don't think the police are that capable."
Ludwig chuckles at that and slowly rises to an upright position, paint roller abandoned. "The entire force or the one that steadily follows you?'
Another snort and Elizaveta follows him to her feet. "I don't trust Alfred as far as I can throw him." She yanks at her gloves; tossing the free one on the ground once it's off. "Can you believe he followed me to the store? The store, like I'm some criminal."
The blonde's small smile makes her roll her eyes. "You do have something of a record." Ludwig offers, and Elizaveta throws the other glove at his chest. It falls short and instead lands in the pan of white paint. Before either can respond, Elizaveta's phone rings to life and she fishes it from her back pocket. Her brows furrow at the unknown number, but she answers anyway and puts it on speaker, remembering the paint stuck to her ears.
"Hello?" Nothing. "Hello?" Still nothing. Elizaveta sighs and hangs up. Ludwig glances at her questioningly, and she explains. "I've been getting calls like that all week. They never say anything and sometimes I can hear bits of noise but no one speaks."
"Have you told the police?" Ludwig asks with concern, and she gives him a look in response.
He nods once and heads in the direction of the kitchen. Elizaveta trails after him, though her hand stays in her pocket, hovering over the phone. She's considered telling Vash about the calls, but couldn't bring herself to. It could be anyone. She's had scammers call her before, using the same tactic, but given the situation, Elizaveta highly doubts that it's the case. Whoever this person is, she gets the feeling that they are checking in on her, and that's the reason she doesn't want to report it.
"Here," Ludwig offers, a cup of freshly brewed coffee in his hands. When had he done this? Distracted, she takes it and cradles the cup in her hands for its warmth. "Your five minutes are up, by the way."
"Do you have a better subject to talk about?"
Ludwig grunts and sips his coffee. "I talked to your mother about tonight."
Elizaveta looks up from the steam whiffing in her face, and her brows twitch at the mention of her mother. "She called you?"
Ludwig looks at her curiously and a raises a brow. "She invited me."
"She what? Ugh, that cow!" The brunette exclaims, and takes a dangerously large gulp of her coffee, one that burns the roof of her mouth.
The man's frown deepens a bit, and Ludwig sits his cup on the counter his lower back is resting against. "That's not the exactly words I would have used to describe the invite but, okay."
"Oh, yeah, I bet." Elizaveta answers sarcastically, "She only invited you because she likes you. 'Ludwig is such a handsome young man," the brunette mocks, and waves her free hand about. "'He keeps in shape, I bet, because his arms so thick. And his manners are incredible, dear. How did you manage to miss him over Gilbert?' That woman has no shame or sense of loyalty to her husband. I pray for him, you know."
The flush on her friend's face is undeniable, and Elizaveta has to use caution when holding herself back from laughing, lest she chokes. Poor thing. She gives the blonde's arm a little pat of sympathy. "She has a thing for nice arms."
Ludwig grabs his cup and uses it to hide his blush. "I won't go then…" he mumbles into the cup before drinking.
Elizaveta shrugs, then sighs reluctantly. "Roderick wants me to go with him to whatever she's planning. My dad wants me to come as well. I'm going because of him. You can be my date," she adds teasingly.
"Isn't that what Roderick is there for?" He throws the tease back.
"That's not funny, Ludwig. Be on time, Mother hates when people are late." Elizaveta sits her empty cup in the sink and goes to grab her keys. "Oh, and you missed a little spot in that corner."
When she gets home, Elizaveta moves methodically through the house. Reluctant as she is, she knows Ludwig wants her at dinner if only for both of their sanity's sake. So she goes to the closet and finds a dress suitable for the occasion. It's easy to do, considering these dinners are something of an annual thing, though lately Elizaveta scarcely attends. The dress she chooses is grey and simple, slightly ruched about the waist, long sleeves and a ridiculous length that would drag on the floor if she wasn't planning on wearing heels.
She has a quick lunch and purposely wastes time by fiddling with things in the apartment. Her thoughts wander as she cleans the windows, folds clothes that were washed days ago and even goes for far as to rearrange the dishes in the cupboard. None of it, however, serves as a proper distraction no matter how she tries to force her brain not to think about it.
Elizaveta moves even slower when she starts her bath, holding her hand under the faucet as the hot water rushes out, drowning out any other noise. When she gets in and sinks down until the water flows into her ear, the Hungarian woman knows her actions are not just to prolong seeing her mother. Although the woman is troublesome enough, Elizaveta's thoughts stray to the piece of paper that's been sitting on the kitchen table for a few days now. She sees it in passing but doesn't dare do anything with it. Why? Her reasoning is crazy; she thinks, and sinks further in the bath while huffing out bubbles into the water. Perhaps it's not crazy, but a natural response in situations where one actually gets what they want. For there, on her kitchen table, is the last known phone number of the one person that might be able to help her find Gilbert. Yet, even after a few days, she's too afraid to call. Anything could happen or nothing at all and that makes Elizaveta completely submerge herself and her thoughts under the hot water. It stings and pricks at her face. She stays under for a few seconds before pulling up, red faced and gasping for air.
The next few minutes, she bathes quickly, absentmindedly. How long has she been sitting in the water? When Elizaveta finally finishes, including a quick wash of hair, she checks the clock to see she'd wasted over an hour debating whether to call Antonio's old phone number. The brunette huffs and snatches her blow-dryer. The noise stops her mental berating, and after fully preparing herself, Elizaveta goes to sit at the kitchen table, a little after 8 pm, looking down at the number with her cellphone in her hand. She taps the table and stares dubiously at the paper she wrote the number down on. Her lips purse and Elizaveta forces herself to stand.
She paces then, the hem of her dress sliding against the kitchen floor. She goes back to the room and checks her hair, adds her earrings and grabs the tiny purse she plans to bring. She goes back into the kitchen but leans against the wall and glares at the paper, releasing all of her apprehension in that stare.
"Just do it!" she says to herself and stomps over to the table, snatching up the phone and paper. Elizaveta will be lying if she says her heart isn't racing as she forces her fingers to dial. Her fingers tremble slightly as she dials as a private number and when she presses talk, the brunette switches it to speaker and hastily sits the phone on the table.
It rings once, and Elizaveta's knees shake. She grabs the table and forces her breathing to regulate as it rings again. The rings stops, Elizaveta blinks, brown eyes widening as silence takes over her kitchen. For a moment she hears something like movement - the noise is so soft - before she hears a click then the dial tone.
"Hello?" Elizaveta asks, finally finding her voice, though the question is stupid. Quickly she grabs the phone and redials, holding the phone to her ear this time. Someone answered; someone has this phone number even if they didn't speak. Could it be him? The phone rings…and rings…and rings.
She forcefully hangs up. "Damn it!"
Elizaveta checks the time. She's already late enough as it is, not that she particularly cares. But she goes to the room to get her shoes anyway and dials Antonio's old phone number again. She dials two more times, getting a continuous ring for both while she straps on her shoes and checks her hair. Elizaveta's nerves are gone and, at this point, she just wants to know who's on the other side of the phone.
By the third time she calls, Elizaveta is walking toward the door, cell phone to her ear, a frown on her face. It takes a few seconds, but soon the wailing shrill of the busy signal makes her pull the phone away instantly. It's the ringing of the house phone that makes her jump in surprise. There's a moment where she glances between the phone in her hand and the one that sits on the nightstand on the bedroom in brief confusion. Time slows as both ring and beep simultaneously. Her eyes are glued to the black house phone as she slowly closes the distant into the bedroom. As expected, the caller ID reveals a private number. It could, in fact, be a coincidence but that doesn't stop her from hesitantly picking up the black phone as she hangs up her cellphone with a quick flick of her wrist. By now, she knows saying hello is useless, and the regrettably familiar click sound greets her ears before the phone hangs up.
A/N: Apologizes for the wait on this chapter. I needed to rework my plot but I have my structure finally! Also, you know, school, exams, papers and all that jazz. These things make my brain hurt!
-CeCe ^_^
