‘The following occurs yesterday’.
… before vanishing. From off camera, comes a knock at the door, causing Heinrich von Richtoven to step into view, heading towards the door. Fumbling for the key for a few moments, he eventually unlocks the door, revealing his elder brother to be on the other side.
(Heinrich): Hello stranger!
They pull one another into a hug, Heinrich clapping Hans' back as he does so.
(Heinrich): Good time in Australia?
(Hans): The best. I was dragging my feet when it came to having to leave for the airport.
Hans takes several steps into the apartment, allowing Heinrich to shut the door.
(Hans): Although I'm a glad that I didn't get to see Federer lose, so…
He trails off smiling for a few moments.
(Hans): What about you though, get settled back in alright?
(Heinrich): Yeah, it wasn't too bad. Had to catch myself a few times on the first day back, not many people around here speak German after all…
(Hans): When did you get back then? Can't remember you actually telling me when you'd be back in New York.
(Heinrich): Three days ago…
He pauses momentarily, wracking his brain.
(Heinrich): Yeah, three days ago.
The two brothers begin to walk into the lounge area of Heinrich's apartment, strewn as it is with half-unpacked cases and the occasional item of clothing.
(Heinrich): I wanted to start getting back into a routine.
(Hans): Too many distractions back home, yeah?
(Heinrich): That's one way of putting it! Felt good get some proper time away from this mad world we're a part of though, but I was letting it go on too long.
Heinrich stops walking beside a large leather chair sat just off to the side of the large flat screen TV, and settles himself down onto it, still talking away.
(Heinrich): I want to get back into that ring rested and raring to go, not back into that ring via a set of steps or a forklift truck.
He pats his stomach to emphasise this.
(Heinrich): I've got the new champ, and I'll be damned if I'm giving anything less than 100%.
A look of glumness fleets across his face.
(Heinrich): Even if it is a 'first blood' match…
Hans smiles consolingly.
(Hans): You've never been one for matches with any sort of 'extreme rules', have you?
(Heinrich): Yeah, never enjoyed them, both on the giving or the receiving end.
His demeanour changes, as he shrugs his shoulders.
(Heinrich): Still, what can you do, right? I'm in it, so I'd best suck it up and get it over with.
Hans settles himself up against the wall, crossing his arms as he leans on his left side.
(Heinrich): Maybe I'll get an enjoyable match next time. Something like you've got this week in fact…
He flashes a knowing smile at his elder brother.
(Heinrich): I bet you’re raring to get at him. Get him back for… well, him being him I suppose!
He leans back into the seat, stretching out his feet as he laughs.
(Hans): There is that, yeah…
He laughs alongside his brother.
(Hans): Be good to see about correcting that undeserved win-loss ratio I have with him I’ll admit.
(Heinrich): I’ll say. That time we got them at the ‘Down Under’ tour was good, but…
He adjusts his seating position again, restless.
(Heinrich): … it’s not the same as a one-on-one.
He throws his brother a lop sided grin.
(Heinrich): Speaking of win-loss ratios, I hope you’re looking forward to facing Butch in this Lottery of yours. I know I am…
A slight edge begins to coat his words as he trails off, causing Hans to roll his eyes.
(Hans): Don’t start this. Please.
He stares at his brother for a few seconds, until he raises his hands in mock surrender. With a final roll of the eyes, and a low sigh, Hans admits…
(Hans): You’re right though, I am.
Heinrich raises his hands skywards in victory at this, crowing with laughter at this.
(Hans): May I remind you that I have no idea when his name will come out of that tumbler. He could be last for all I know!
(Heinrich): Perfect incentive for you to keep chalking up the wins then, don’t you think?
(Hans): And a perfect incentive for me to get down to the gym with you so we can get some sparring done, no?
(Heinrich): Touché.
He gets to his feet in an ungraceful manner, before walking back across the floor towards his bedroom.
(Heinrich): I’ll just grab my things then.
Still talking, he walks out of view.
(Heinrich): So we’ll hit the gym, spend some time in the practice ring…
He sticks his head around the door.
(Heinrich): Go for a run tomorrow morning?
(Hans): Yeah, that sounds good.
(Heinrich): Brilliant.
His head vanishes, as the scene fades out momentarily, before resuming onto a view at the outskirts of Central Park. A small line of text flourishes briefly.
'The following takes place several hours ago'.
Hans steps into view, clad in clothing suitable for running in the early hours of a cold morning in New York. He claps his hands together, before blowing hot air into them, as he bounces on the balls of his feet; cutting a restless figure in amongst the various tourists and city dwellers that walk around him.
After a few seconds, Heinrich steps into view, similarly dressed. He extends one hand towards Hans, a disposable coffee cup clasped in it which his elder brother gratefully receives.
(Heinrich): Been waiting long?
(Hans): Ten minutes or so.
He gestures at his brother’s hair.
(Hans): I forgot that you take your time getting the right hair to gel ratio.
(Heinrich): Ah, you’re a funny guy. Drink up and we’ll get going.
Hans obliges, taking a large mouthful of the coffee.
(Heinrich): I see our opponents have had a few things to say. Did you manage to catch any of it before you got here?
Hans shakes his head as he takes another mouthful of the coffee.
(Hans): I was more or less straight out the door and Vanessa was watching the tennis anyway.
He finishes off the coffee, dropping it into a waste bin located nearby, before the two of them begin to jog into Central Park proper.
(Heinrich): Well, let me fill you in then…
The scene fades to black.
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