Wer kocht nicht, ißt nicht.

[Tiger]

Whoever does not cook does not eat.

Roderich prided himself on two things: music and pastries. Life and fate could throw what it wanted at him, but he would be able to persevere as long as he could still play piano and eat tortes. He was now preparing to do the latter; a sachertorte was in the oven as he opened the pantry door in pursuit of apricots to make a glaze. Although he had his own apricot trees, these particular fruits were imported from the south because they were out of season here -- Austria was still cold.

He found the apricots and quickly washed them before taking out a textured glass cutting board. There was a light shuffling noise, like feet on unsecured carpet, audible from the entryway right after he cut the first fruit in half. A bit unsettled, he set the knife down on the counter and walked through the parlor to the hallway. Although he did not immediately see anyone, that did not mean a thing because there was still another corner to round.

[Jimmeh]

[[ooc: I promise I'll make a skin soon. xD I made one already so I could read Prussia's font color, but it's kind of emo.]]

Gilbert, however, could barely hold the mental capacity to take indulgence in such hobbies. Perhaps his life would be easier internally if he had followed Roderich's path--after all, he had been born to battle the same fights as him, but ended up as a hooligan in the end. Some people, he had observed, mistook his annoying nature for unintelligence, which nearly irked him. He was clever enough to know how occupy his time, he thought. Maybe his intelligence just wasn't noticeable to some people. He was certainly smart enough to pick a lock, and enter a household as discreetly as possible.

"Hey, Austria, what'cha doing?" he said from down the hall. His tactic was simple--waste Roderich's time for a few minutes, then go away before there was any threat presented to him. It was just harmless fun, which he knew his neighbor was completely used to. Even though he's gonna sore about it for a few days, I bet.

[Tiger]

He frowned. "Oh. It's only you." Of course, Roderich had not been expecting anything more nor anything less; his brain was just hard-wired back from the empire days when someone breaking into your house meant serious trouble. "Well, I was about to make apricot glaze for a sachertorte. I presume that you won't care to join me?" He certainly hoped that Gilbert wouldn't care to join him. Another instinct that remained from the past was that his northern rival was to be avoided at all costs. Since the end of the Second World War, however, he had been able to tolerate the Prussian fairly well. A giant wall separating them for the majority of the past half-century had helped too.

[Jimmeh]

"I see what you're getting at!" Gilbert moved down the hall quickly, a disgruntled expression crossing his face. He wasn't seriously angry about anything in particular, but was letting his temper getting the better of him, as usual. "I'm going to say no, and you're gonna politely ask me to leave, and then you'll get angry, and I'll end up with a concussion from a frying pan wound, and--I will not fall for it!" As if to prove this, he fully entered the kitchen, and crossed his arms.

[Tiger]

"Actually, I was hinting that you should leave because I do not wish to be left in your presence, but you may take it that way." He followed Gilbert to the kitchen and returned to his spot at the counter, where he continued to chop apricots. "I don't understand your frying pan paranoia either. It's a much less dangerous weapon than, say, nuclear bombs, or even guns. Of course, I've never been hit with one." Although his tone remained polite, his words were slightly caustic, as he intended them to be. If this erupted into a verbal argument, he felt that it would be one he could win.

[Jimmeh]

"What would you know? You haven't pissed your girlfriend off yet, pretty boy," Gilbert muttered, absentmindedly rubbing his cheek with his left hand, even though there weren't any bruises to prove his statement. He had managed to stay out of trouble lately--no wonder things had grown boring for him.

[Tiger]

"If it was going to happen, I think it would have happened by now." Roderich sighed, put down the knife, and rested his hands on the apricot-slick cutting board. "It's been over a hundred and fifty years now, and -- wait, I take that back. She beat me up when we were really young, but that when I was friends with Switzerland--" In surprise he cringed, hardly believing what he had just said. "No. Switzerland and I weren't friends."

[Jimmeh]

He laughed. "A hundred and fifty years? Man, if she hadn't beaten me up for that long, it would be because I was dead." Gilbert paused for a moment, thinking over the event. He only remembered the incident vaguely--perhaps part of him was just making up even being there. "As I remember, you were friends with him." His tone was extremely blunt when he said this, as it usually was when discussing the past, but this time, it was almost to the point where his last sentence had sounded friendly.

[/color][/size]

[Tiger]

"Maybe I was." He blinked once, slowly, as he said this. Vash and Roderich had an unwritten agreement to claim that they had never known each other, much less been allies. "Things have changed. I'm sure you know just as well as I do that childhood friends hardly stay like that. A lot of former alliances mean nothing now. They are forgotten." Forgotten. Sometimes all he wanted was to forget.

[Jimmeh]

“Yes, yes, I know the whole story.” Gilbert shrugged indifferently; even to him the topic was slightly uncomfortable, but not enough to shy away from it whenever it was brought up in conversation. “Either way, you have no idea what it’s like to be hit repeatedly with a cast iron frying pan, or you only have a memory of it, so pipe down.”

[Tiger]

"Well, I imagine that the act is more amusing to watch than it is to receive," Roderich conjectured. "It's probably the best to cause, though. I can honestly say that I've never beaten anyone with a frying pan; that's more violent than I am." He had never been much of a fighter, but most of his bosses had been wise enough to realize that and then employed alternate methods of gaining power.

[Jimmeh]

"Well...I..." Gilbert glanced out a window for a moment, searching desperately for a conflicting reply. He scowled and stuck his hands in his pockets, realizing he had been outsmarted. "...Austria, you bastard! You're switching to a new tactic, trying to bore me out! Well, I refuse to fall for it! I refuse!" His tone grew angrier, but even e was aware he was just making a few last attempts to irritate him.

[/color][/size]

[Tiger]

"Nonsense," he said with an airy, distinctly aristocratic wave of his hand to dismiss the claim. "If I were trying to remove you from my home by being boring, then I would have stood here and made my sachertorte in silence while you also stood here and tried in vain to irritate me. However, it's unfortunate on your part that you find what I have to say boring."

[Jimmeh]

"Of course you would," Gilbert muttered, rolling his eyes, his brief spout of anger finished. Very rarely was he doubtful, but now he was almost wondering why he had even bothered wasting time. "Well, fine; be that way. I'll just stand here, unless you give me some of your sachertorte."

[Tiger]

Roderich picked up the knife again and resumed the torte preparation. Not taking his eyes off of the apricots, he said, "The sachertorte is still in the oven, so you'll have to wait a bit unless you want Sachersuppe. I have leftovers of other soups, too: some Rindsuppe and a half a bowl of Gulasch." He had other tortes in the house, too, but did not feel like sharing his precious and so well-beloved pastries.