The scene opens out onto Hans von Richtoven’s apartment high in the Empire States Building; New York. It’s mid-day judging by the clock mounted on the wall. Sitting on one of the black leather sofas, engrossed in a book is Hans von Richtoven himself, the faint sound of ‘Steps of Solomon’ by The Hollow Earth Theory coming from the wireless speakers mounted around the room the only real sound.

After a few moments however, Hans’ attention is distracted from the book, as a buzzing noise sounds from his pocket. Closing the book shut, and placing it on the coffee table between the two sofas, he pulls out his iPhone, before grabbing a small remote from beside the book, and muting the music.

He raises the iPhone to his ear.

(Hans): Heinrich!

(Heinrich): Hey Hans, free to talk?

(Hans): Yeah, sure, I can make time for my little brother.

(Heinrich): That’s what I like to hear! Makes me feel slightly better that I’m not interrupting anything just because I had 10 minutes to spare, and had nothing else to do…

Hans rolls his eyes back as he slouches into the leather sofa, stretching out across it.

(Hans): I feel so valued.

He sorts his t-shirt, smoothing out the creases with his free hand.

(Hans): Any plans for this evening then?

(Heinrich): Well Logan's coming round and then we'll hit the town for a couple, and then start knuckling down to face the Sons of Anarchy tomorrow…

(Hans): Tomorrow morning, or tomorrow afternoon?

(Heinrich): Whenever the hangover wears off I'd imagine.

Heinrich's laughter filters down through the speaker.

(Heinrich): I'd double check your booking for this show incidentally, they seem to be labouring under the assumption that you're the one tagging with Logan!

(Hans): …

Lost for words momentarily, his free hand rubs the ridge of his nose as he shuts his eyes.

(Hans): Please tell me you're just joking.

(Heinrich): 'Fraid not. Wish it was mind you. I could have used a week off to allow my arm to recover from all the biting Butch did.

A somewhat theatrical sigh follows.

(Heinrich): No rest for the wicked though, as they say.

(Hans): Well at least he’s said something about this match. I remember when I faced him, Draconis and Matthew in a Fatal Four-Way. He only came out of his hole when the bell rang, and then got swiftly sent back into it with his tail between his legs, not a sound from him at all in the run-up.

(Heinrich): Should have kept it that way, better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.

(Hans): Exactly.

(Heinrich): Still, it’s quite cute that he’s under the assumption that me and Logan will be like sheep. We’ll have fun proving that belief wrong. About the only thing he said that I agree on though was his little rant at Evers in fact. He is an undeserving champ.

Hans nods in concurrence, before raising a point of his own.

(Hans): How’s your arm by the way?

(Heinrich): Healing well, got given some antibiotics as a precaution, and I'm keeping it clean and protected. The scabbing itches like hell though.

(Hans): Well you know what mutti would say.

(Heinrich): Don't remind me. All those times we had that drummed into our heads when we were younger. Speaking of mutti, Bastian and Sabina are bringing the twins up next week, and she wants to get the family together.

(Hans): Sounds good to me. Be nice to see the babies in the flesh, rather than in pictures for a change! She is aware I'll be at Hockenheim for the Grand Prix though, yes?

(Heinrich): Yes, and she's fine with that provided you show your face an adequate amount of time in the days before it.

(Hans): You still sure you don't want to go? Vanessa's put another offer on the table…

(Heinrich): I'm sure she has. Answer's a no though. I've got some catching up to do with my old work friends, show them the war wounds and tell tales of my heroism, I'm sure you understand.

(Hans): Just be careful your nose doesn't grow.

Hans grins in amusement.

(Heinrich): You're a funny guy, you know.

A dry tone is inflected in his brother's voice.

(Heinrich): I heard your interview went well though.

Hans snorts derisively in response, drawing an amused bout of laughter from his brother.

(Hans): You heard wrong I'm afraid.

(Heinrich): Shame. Still, some good exposure for the HWA in these times is a rare thing.

(Hans): What's rarer is an interviewer who isn't trying to get a rise out of me. You should have heard the guy who I had to deal with afterwards, someone inconsequential from Wrestling News. Schweinhund.

(Heinrich): Well you'll have plenty of opportunities to get whatever anger you have out of your system. You hitting the gym later?

(Hans): For a bit. Vanessa's booked tickets for a Broadway show tonight, so I can't be too long.

(Heinrich): Sounds good. What show you seeing?

(Hans): Honestly, she's not told me. All I've been told is that I'm to look my best and not to grumble when she passes me her clutch bag to hold on occasion.

(Heinrich): *Laughs* Ooo, you're so whipped it's unbelievable.

(Hans): Call it that if you wish. All I have to say on the matter, is that tomorrow morning, I’m going to wake up next to a gorgeous lady, while you'll wake up in your underwear smelling of stale alcohol within touching distance of Logan…

Once more the sound of Heinrich’s laughter is heard down the line.

(Heinrich): Sad thing is, you’re probably going to be right on that one. *Laughs* Well anyway Hans, I’d better get myself sorted for tonight. Tell Vanessa I said ‘hi’, and I’ll try and catch you before Havoc!

(Hans): No worries little bro, enjoy yourself tonight!

Hans thumbs the iPhone, disconnecting the call, before sliding it into his pocket.

The scene fades to black.