Mountains, Ice, and Edelweiss

Bickering

You again?" Basch snorted, quirking a brow as he meticulously filed his papers into color-coded folders and slipped them into his leather messenger bag as the last people trickled from the meeting room.

"I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to be in the public conference room," Roderich responded, crossing his arms and staring down at the unfazed blond man.

"Even if you weren't, you wouldn't know it. You hardly ever pay attention. Your mind's always on cakes, or empires, or that damn piano," Basch muttered.

"Speaking of the piano," Roderich replied snidely, "I wrote a composition for you. I call it "Requiem to the Last Fuck I Gave."

Basch heard a snicker, and he shot a venomous glare to Gilbert, who quickly stifled it and hurried from the room.

"Yeah?" Basch responded smoothly, circling the aristocrat like a lion circles its prey. "I saved five francs on cheese last week." He leaned in, green eyes narrowing. "What did you save, Roderich?" He whispered icily. "Not your marriages."

The man's mouth dropped open, and Basch drew back with a satisfied huff, a small smirk touching the corners of his mouth as he basked in the glory of winning this round. 

"Coffee?" He asked, bopping Roderich's mouth shut as if nothing had happened. "There's a place just around the corner. You're paying."

Begrudgingly, the aristocrat obliged him, and as he sipped his coffee, he wondered how Basch got more and more attractive to him with every passing day.