Austria the player

Roderich twisted the hem of his band "uniform" as he walked across the lawn to Gilbert's somewhat shabby home. He knew he shouldn't be here again. This wasn't fair to Vash, or Gilbert... or even Elizabeta. But he just couldn't stay away.

Innocent conversation.

It always started out so harmlessly. Approaching the door, he could hear the sound of music from within - he knew from the by-now familiar twang of the strings that it was Gilbert playing, not the stereo. He knocked, and the music abruptly stopped, replaced by the pounding of feet across the wooden floorboards. The door opened.

Not so innocent conversation.

It never took long. In the end, he just couldn't resist...

Isn't that just sickeningly sweet.

He who had been alone for so long, who had seen others come and go... he could fool himself now. Feel a smile come to his face as they cuddled like high school sweethearts. The cheap bed springs groaned beneath their weight and the headboard jutted coldly into his shoulder, but he could ignore it all.

Just so you know, that's Ludwig's pillow. So don't start drooling.

Maybe it was because he never really put any effort into resisting.

Well, this is awkward.

If only Gilbert lived alone.