In the comfort of the back yard however, all is calm. Panning around, the camera takes in the lush green grass manicured to perfection, palm fronds from the small trees that line one of the paved paths to the pool waving gently with the low breeze that flows in. It comes to rest on the pool itself, framed on one side by a pair of loungers and on the other with a small table and a set of chairs.
Sat on the edge of the pool roughly in the middle, feet dipped into the water and seemingly (although we know better) without a care in the world is Hans von Richtoven. A pair of denim shorts and a sleeveless top cover his frame while a pair of aviators shield his eyes from the rising sun.
To his side is a glass filled with what looks to be beer, half empty as it is at this stage.
He seems completely lost in thought, feet occasionally kicking out to disturb the water. From time to time, the glass is raised to his lips and the liquid within diminishes in volume.
The sound of a patio door being slid open can be heard, Hans’ head rising to glance up at the figure entering the back yard and making his way towards him.
Two bottles of beer and a glass of his own in hand, Butch Parker comes into view.
(Hans): Morgen mein freund.
(Butch): Morning pal. Maria let me in, said you’d be back here.
He waves the bottles at his friend.
(Butch): Helped myself, that alright?
A small smile and a nod of the head.
(Hans): Of course. Mein haus, dein haus.
They look across at one another, the pool separating them.
(Butch): I know it seems like the daftest question but…how are you? Wisdom told me about the state of your locker…I saw the interview… mate, I don’t know what to say.
A low exhalation of breath followed by a sip of beer is Hans’ immediate reaction.
As the glass is lowered from his lips, his other hand comes up, one finger gently lowering his aviators down so that Butch can see his eyes.
(Hans): Sheiße… if you don’t know what to say mein freund…
Forcing a smile across at his friend, it’s quickly masked as he takes another sip of beer.
(Hans): How am I? Right now…
He makes a ‘so so’ gesture with his free hand, ending it by pushing his aviators back up so that they shield his eyes fully.
A snort of amusement erupts from him as he concedes the next point.
(Hans): It’s subject to change though, jah? Ask me in an hour and I’ll have a different answer.
More of the beer is drunk.
(Hans): What about you though?
Pointing across at Butch with his nearly drained glass, he motions for him to come round to his side of the pool.
(Hans): Herr Rhodes?
Butch shuffles awkwardly, rolling his eyes slightly.
(Butch): Yeah, I’m done with his bullshit, Hans. Targeting Evina was the last straw. I’ve got no idea what’s going to happen now but at least I got some measure of retribution after what happened a few weeks ago. But that’s a drop in the ocean compared to this, mein freund.
Butch leans forward, motioning in an assured manner towards his friend.
(Butch): I want you to know, Wisdom and I? We are doing everything in our power to circumvent this, even if it blurs the lines of legality. Even if Van decides she doesn’t want to come back, even if you decide it’s too much and want to step back, I’ll make it right regardless.
The glass is drained, Hans settling it down besides him, the dregs of the foam and bubbles in the bottom popping with the heat of the day. His other hand pinches the bridge of his nose.
The next words are almost muttered.
(Hans): So much for changing the topic…
Hans smiles, less forcibly this time, but it’s clear he’d have rathered the topic stayed off this.
(Hans): That’s just it Butch, I’m done with this bullshit too…
Butch by this point has stepped round the pool and is but a step away from Hans. Reaching out with one of the beer bottles, Hans accepts it, cracking it open with practiced ease and beginning to pour it into his own glass.
Butch mirrors his friends' actions with his own glass and bottle.
(Hans): I mean, sheiße… I’ve… I’ve been targeted before… Ich habe verdammt noch mal das gleiche getan… but this, jah, this… this is something else. She is obsessed... unt Vanessa, it’s with so many things.
Having poured out the beer into his glass, Hans settles both beside him, exhaling loudly as he composes his thoughts, staring out ahead over the pool.
Next to him, Butch slides off his shoes and rolls up his trousers, settling in beside him in silence.
(Hans): She’s come back to do a job that she loves, unt that’s being torn from her… it’s involving me and her… her privacy… jah, shattered… absolutely shattered… on display for everyone…
Turning his head round, he looks at his friend.
(Hans): I want to hurt her Butch. I want her to pay for what she’s done to my wife. For what she’s done to us.
Shoulders slumping somewhat, he turns back around.
(Butch): And nobody can blame you for that, mate. She’s poison, utter poison.
Suddenly, Butch’s phone vibrates. He takes out and reads the notification and his eyes widen.
(Butch): Shit…
(Hans): What is it?
(Butch): I’ll give you three guesses. Erica again. Footage from the Academy’s security cameras has been released of Matt and Jeremy…together…you know…together together…
Hans’ eyes widen a fraction at the words he’s hearing. Reaching for his beer, another gulp is taken.
Slowly his head shakes from side to side.
(Hans): Jah, sie ist gift…
Butch sighs and sits back, puffing his cheeks out, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.
(Butch): Just another fire to put out. Erica seemingly decided to cut a promo at the old HQ building and outed them. Matt’s freaking out, Matthew’s trying to find them both before anyone else finds out before them. The joys…
(Hans): Mein gott…
His head drops down onto his chest briefly, cheeks puffing out as he tries to process what’s been said.
(Hans): Die sau… Anything she’s ever shared in and been privy to is just a tool to cause more pain and suffering to others.
Butch says nothing, silence his answer.
A few moments pass, both men deep in their thoughts.
Taking a drink of his own beer, Butch wipes the foam from his upper lip and turns to face Hans.
(Butch): I’ll be honest and say that we didn’t see this coming pal. Never in her time at the Academy was there any signs of her going off the rails like this.
Another pinch of the upper bridge of his nose and a pained expression forms.
(Butch): Not that it’s an excuse or… ah Christ mate, I dunno… it’s a shitshow, nae doubt about it.
Muttering more words under his breath, Butch takes a deep drink of his beer while next to him, Hans nods.
(Hans): Jah, it is…
More silence.
(Butch): Here, how is Van? I didn’t see her when Maria showed me through, she in, or?
(Hans): Nein, she’s out. Some old friends from college are in town for the week, so…
(Butch): So cocktails and shopping trips?
(Hans): Jah, something like that.
(Butch): I’m not meaning to pry, but…
A knowing smile flits across Hans’ face as he takes a sip of his beer.
(Hans): Jah, Ich weiß…
Swallowing his drink, his tongue pushes out his upper lip, sealed as they are, deciding how best to continue.
(Hans): We’re doing ok Butch, as well as we could be.
(Butch): That begs more questions than it answers pal.
(Hans): Jah, I know, I know…
Shoulder slumped, his free hand comes up and drops just as quick, searching for words.
(Hans): Any one of these would rock someone’s marriage… we’ve just had nothing but blow after blow after blow… it’s… it’s shellshock…
(Butch): I get you pal.
He reaches out with one hand and squeezes his friends shoulder in support.
(Hans): Right now, I’m at my limit… I’ve had enough… Ich will krieg…
A low sigh escapes his pursed lips, eyes still staring straight ahead.
(Hans): But then what example does that set? This isn’t the HWA of old. Getting that baseball bat down from the wall? Nein, that’s not me…
Exhaling loudly once again, he drains the last of his beer, a contemplative look forming. A sideways glance at his friend occurs as a thought takes hold.
(Hans): You said you and Wisdom are doing everything in your power, jah?
(Butch): I said that mate, yeah. I mean it… why?
(Hans): Unt even if it blurs the lines of legality…?
(Butch): Again, aye, I said that pal. What are you getting at?
Hans purses his lips, debating whether to go on for a moment.
Relenting, he carries on.
(Hans): I’m going to need two things mein freund.
The answer comes immediately.
(Butch): Say it, it’s yours.
(Hans): I can’t ask for the second at this time, not yet at least.
Intrigued by what his friend is getting at, Butch’s eyebrows raise.
(Butch): But the first?
(Hans): An address.
(Butch): Ok…
He trails off, mulling over the permutations of what this could lead to.
Just as quickly, he settles those thoughts in his mind.
(Butch): Ok, yeah, whose address?
Hans tilts his head across the pool and back towards the home.
(Hans): Come inside, I’ll tell you who and what I’m thinking. Can talk over lunch, jah?
(Butch): Awrite, I’m in.
Draining his own glass, the two men get to their feet as the scene slowly fades to black as they make their way indoors.
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