From the iPod dock set atop a wooden cabinet below the middle of the windows, what sounds suspiciously like Volbeat, can be heard, the volume set intentionally low, so as not to overshadow the words coming from the rooms occupants…
Panning around, the camera settles onto the sight of Heinrich von Richtoven, alongside long-time friend Mark Spencer, standing in the kitchen section of the open-plan room.
(Mark Spencer): … are you gonna do it then man?
A few seconds pass, as Hans von Richtoven stands up, having had his head in the fridge extricating a beer that he extends to his younger brother, who meets it with a bottle opener held in his other hand.
Smiling as he sighs, clearly having been answering this question before...
(Hans): Yes. A thousand times yes. I’m going to do it.
Winking at Mark, Heinrich chips in, leaning in over his brother’s shoulder in an almost conspiratorial manner.
(Heinrich): Really? I saw that new ‘Deus Ex’ game and another pair of jeans… but that was it…
Hans, taking the bait and biting his tongue with frustration, rounds on his brother, causing him and Mark to grin widely.
(Hans): Oh no, don’t you dare start piping up now.
He thumbs his hand at Mark, now drawing a laugh from him.
(Hans): It’s bad enough that I have it from him, but you…?
Finally relenting, and with a shrug as he turns back round, the tension drops from his shoulders, as he mounts one final challenge.
(Hans): He stood outside while I bought it, so ignore him.
Mouthing silently that he was doing anything but, and causing another laugh to come from Mark, Hans moves past Mark, placing one hand on his shoulder as he draws him around.
(Hans): Look.
Gesturing at the dining table before him, Mark obligingly settles his gaze on it.
(Hans): See you for yourself.
Curiosity gets the better of Mark, and he walks partially off-camera, as Hans rounds once more on his brother, prodding his chest, the smile on his own face making clear the meaning behind the move. Reciprocating with a clap on the upper arm, Heinrich proffers his beer, which Hans takes, and reaches back onto the counter for his own.
A few seconds pass, as the brothers take appreciative sips from their beers, before turn to watch Mark sift his way through what’s on the table. Knowing glances pass between them, as he comes across a particular bag.
The sound of the bag being opened, followed by a perceptible intake of breath can be heard…
(Mark Spencer): … Bloody hell, you are gonna do it!
He turns around, coming back on-camera.
(Mark Spencer): About time!
He throws his arm around Hans, drawing him into a warm hug.
(Mark Spencer): Good for you man, seriously! When are you gonna pop the question?
Rolling his eyes, and with a droll tone in his voice, Heinrich cuts in…
(Heinrich): Since it took him about six or seven combined hours to settle on that one, never mind the time he spent considering the others, if he follows trend, we could be looking at him doing it anytime between now and Christmas… next year…
(Hans): This weekend actually…
Pre-empting his brother, he aims his next words at him.
(Hans): Seriously.
(Heinrich): *Laughing* I wasn’t going to say anything!
Holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence, he moves around his brother, and across to the leather sofas, and parks himself on one of them.
Mark and Hans follow him across the room, a look of seriousness beginning to form on Marks face at Hans’ words.
(Mark Spencer): This weekend?
(Hans): That’s the plan.
(Mark Spencer): You sure there’s not an alternative?
Hans’ head turns towards Marks at this point, as the two men sit down on the sofa across from the one Heinrich’s lounging on.
(Hans): Why’d I want an alternative?
(Mark Spencer): This upcoming title match against Ronnie. Your World title. You’d be wanting to focus on it above all else surely? Kind of a big deal, no?
A sombre air descends on Hans at this, and he shakes his head sadly.
(Hans): Not as much as you and many others want me to, and think it is.
(Mark Spencer): Oh come on Hans, why not? You’re the first World champion in a long time to have done enough to actually deserve a rematch by the time they’d been beaten for it!
(Hans): Please tell me you’re not forgetting… or overlooking for that matter, all that he did while he was in pursuit of my title?
(Mark Spencer): No, I’m not, and don’t insinuate that I am. What he did is inexcusable, but this is a chance for you to get your own back in style my friend.
(Hans): Mark, I honestly don’t care for this match. The thought of getting in the ring with someone like Ronnie right now sickens me to my core. That I’m doing it because Senester doesn’t want either of us to be in any fit shape to interfere in whatever he’s got planned for Talon would be bad enough on it’s own as it is anyway.
He leans back into the sofa, taking a swig of his drink.
(Hans): No thanks Mark. I’ll use it as further preparation for Ringmaster, and that’s all… I’ll focus on the World title again in my own time.
Mildly exasperated at his friends words, Mark turns to Heinrich.
(Mark Spencer): What about you Heinrich, please tell me you’re up for what you’ve got in store?
Putting as much machismo into his voice as possible, and with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, Heinrich responds…
(Heinrich): Raring to go Mark.
Playing along, Mark slaps his knee enthusiastically, drawing a chuckle out of Hans as he does so.
(Mark Spencer): Excellent! That’s what I want to hear!
He looks over at Hans as he says this, resulting in him being flashed the middle finger.
(Mark Spencer): *Laughing* So a title unification match? That’s not happened in the HWA before, has it?
(Heinrich): Not that I know of… they usually just end up stripping the champs and retiring the belts…
They both look at Hans for clarification, who can only shrug, unsure about it himself.
(Hans): What he said… I think…
(Mark Spencer): Well, it’s what you deserve man.
(Heinrich): Thanks Mark.
He folds his free arm behind his head, leaning back.
(Heinrich): Be good to finally get a match against Eddie where he can’t run away and forfeit.
(Mark Spencer): Oh yeah… how long ago was that now? Just before you faced Senester, yeah?
(Heinrich): Jah… must have been a good eight, nine months ago now.
Taking another sip of his beer, he adds.
(Heinrich): Be good to put what I’ve learnt since then to the test.
(Hans): You had the measure of him then, and you’ll have it now.
(Heinrich): Ah, but it’s an Ambulance match however, it’s not quite so simple as getting the three count… mind you, I keep proving little ole’ Steven wrong about ‘wanting it more’ than he does, so it shouldn’t be too much of a big ask to ‘want it more’ than Eddie…
He drains his beer, a content expression emerging as the liquid goes down his throat.
(Heinrich): And oh how I want to win this one. A place in the history books. A giant ‘f*ck you’ at Fallen and anyone else that thinks sneak attacks and underhanded tactics winning them a title makes them more deserved that winning legitimately. And the chance to walk out with a belt on both shoulders…
He smirks at his brother.
(Heinrich): Not to mention, upstaging you…
(Hans): Perish the thought.
Glancing at his own, near-empty bottle, he looks at Mark.
(Hans): If this is what he’s going to start coming out with, I’m getting another beer…
The scene fades out to a commercial for “Blood, Sweat & Tears”.
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