Lounging out on one of the leather seats is Heinrich von Richtoven, sipping from a chilled bottle of Peroni as he watches the clouds drift by; lost in his thoughts.
Taking a slug from the bottle, his reverie is shattered as Hans von Richtoven steps into the camera view, settling himself down onto the seat opposite his younger sibling.
(Hans): Another four hours until Madrid, refuelling shouldn’t take much longer than forty minutes, and then it’s another four hours from there to Tehran on a straight flight path.
Heinrich nods his head at this, before draining the rest of his Peroni. He tips the head of the empty bottle at his brother, as he gets to his feet.
(Heinrich): Want one?
Hans chews his lip for a brief moment, before nodding his head.
(Hans): Yeah, go on then.
(Heinrich): Peroni?
(Hans): Please.
Heinrich walks off camera, heading back up towards the small mini-bar set at the fore of the cabin. Hans cranes his neck round to follow his progress.
(Hans): I hope you know what you’re doing Heinrich.
He points his finger at his brother; still off camera, to emphasise his point., his voice full of concern and worry.
(Hans): Wearing green in Iran just now has certain political connotations.
Heinrich returns, a bottle of Peroni grasped in each hand. He passes one to Hans, before tugging at the front of his green t-shirt, unadorned apart from a faint outline in black thread that the camera can‘t quite pick out in the centre of his chest.
(Heinrich): This? Yeah… it can be taken that way…
He smirks, as he sits himself down, before shaking his head at his brother’s expression.
(Heinrich): I’ll be fine Hans, seriously. I just had nothing else to wear today…
He holds up his free hand, as he takes a slug of his beer, before crossing his fingers off one by one.
(Heinrich): I had a last minute trip to the gym, then there was the bag packing which of course, as all men will attest, is left until the last minute as a matter of course, I had to shower and then I had to catch up on the latest promos that came out.
Heinrich exudes a look that clearly states ‘what’s a guy to do?’, causing Hans to snort with amusement as he takes a drink of his own beer.
(Hans): Anything interesting been said?
(Heinrich): DnA missing the point again, Archangels being as professional as ever…
His eyebrows raise up as he wracks his brain, before a slow smirk of satisfaction begins to form.
(Heinrich): Nothing from AC and Talon, but I had that little fool; Grunge aim some words at me… or at least, he tried to.
Hans chuckles.
(Hans): Ah, so you saw that one as well then.
He jerks his head sideways at the camera.
(Hans): You want to do a direct promo just now? There’s plenty of time to kill afterall…
Heinrich’s eyes dart to the camera and then back at Hans, a shrug of the shoulders his immediate response as he takes another sip of his beer.
(Heinrich): Nah. It get’s tiring bringing up these redneck’s inability to tell us apart.
He shakes his head softly from side to side.
(Heinrich): I mean, had our mutti known all those years ago the confusion she’s cause by having both her sons have names beginning with the letter ‘h’, I’m sure she’d have named me something else…
Hans can’t help but smirk at the condescending nature of his brothers words.
(Hans): It’s not like we’re unknown’s either… well, maybe you are…
Heinrich snorts with amusement at the verbal jab.
(Hans): … but I’m the current World champion; the face of the HWA at this moment in time.
He finds himself rolling his eyes.
(Hans): You’d be forgiven for thinking that Grunge & co live under rocks…
(Heinrich): Distinct possibility there.
He waggles his finger at his elder brother.
(Heinrich): But stupidity of this calibre is unforgivable. Fallen and Draconis made this mistake in three separate promos… three! Not once, not twice, but three separate times they couldn’t get their head around the fact that there’s more than one von Richtoven on the roster, not to forget what Fallen came out with on his own last time as well. Could they not sit down at some point, club their heads together, and work out stuff like this? It’s hardly rocket science…
He downs a fair portion of his remaining beer.
(Heinrich): Can’t believe he further put his foot in his mouth by saying that I… you… me…
He makes a dismissive noise at the back of his throat in annoyance.
(Heinrich): … was in a coma though. Seriously? What do they put in the drinking water where he comes from?
He finishes the remainder of his beer.
(Heinrich): But yeah, he’s made a complete arse out of himself, and I really don’t want to draw anymore attention to it. All this self-inflicted embarrassment…
Both Hans and Heinrich’s heads turn towards the camera, a knowing look flourishing on both their faces.
(Heinrich): … so, being the kind soul that I am, I’d hate to add to it.
He tilts his head back, laughing, as the scene fades to black.
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