It's Been a While (Prusse + Canadie)

Guest

Matthew rarely had time to himself anymore. When he'd arrived in Italy with the French police force, Francis had suggested that he retake his field exam. After a few weeks of stressing, relaxing, then becoming stressed again, he passed the exam for the first time in three years and five attempts. He was thrilled to be in the field again, but it was a lot of work. He barely went home to his tiny apartment except on Saturday evenings, and that was only because in Italy, even the mafia stops for church.

Thank God for Catholics.

Sundays were his only free days, and on really busy days, everyone got called back in. Even if the police force didn't let out for Sundays, however, Matthew would still go to morning mass. He was born and raised French Catholic, and not even work could stop him. He used the religion excuse, and in Italy, it worked. Everything in Italy stops for Catholic events. Matthew was glad for this--he could have an afternoon to himself. Once a week, he could have a window of time to use for anything he wanted. Of course, he couldn't often do much, since nobody really recognized his existence.

Well, that wasn't completely true. Francis acknowledged him, and so did Alfred and some other force members. Arthur remembered his name sometimes, and emails were being sent to him more often nowadays instead of sent to Francis to forward to "that kid who looks like Jones." He didn't even really have a partner, because his partner had been assigned to someone else three weeks after they were assigned together. They'd forgotten him on the lists.

There was someone else, though. Someone who he'd relied on to remember his name for five years. Someone he could count on, no matter what, to know how he was feeling. Someone who could see through what he decided to show, who knew when "I'm doing fine" was a complete lie, who cared enough to ask when he knew "I'm doing fine" was a lie.

Gilbert.

They'd met when Matthew was back in Canada as a rookie detective. They'd met through a visit Gilbert had made to a friend on the force. How they'd become such close friends, Matthew had no clue. While he was quiet and reserved, Gilbert was rambunctious and loud. Matthew had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the pancakes. Gilbert did love those pancakes Matthew made. In fact, he whined like a toddler when he didn't receive a plate when the two of them spent time together.

They'd parted ways when Matthew was transferred to France, but neither of them let that stop them. Both of them made sure to stay in contact over email, Skype and phone calls. When Matthew learned that Gilbert was going to Italy, as well, he was giddy, but soon learned that Gilbert was to be undercover. Since he knew this, the Canadian has been constantly anxious for the only real friend he's ever had.

Gilbert is almost never able to spend time with Matthew, so on the rare occasion that they do get to meet up, Matthew enjoys every second of it. This Sunday afternoon was one such day. A small café in a slightly more busy area of town, with enough people not to be overheard and enough privacy to enjoy the company of a person rarely seen.

Matthew sits by the window, staring out into the crowd. His cappuccino sits forgotten on its plate, half-finished and almost forlorn in being abandoned. Matthew stirs it every few minutes with disinterest, waiting for that head of white hair to pop out among the dark-haired, olive-skinned Italian masses. He doesn't really mind the wait, though. He's had to wait months at a time to talk to his best--his only--friend in the past. However, he does miss the days when he could see Gilbert whenever he wanted. Those days are long gone, though, and Matthew Williams knows it.

It's been a while.

Subject: Re: It's Been a While (Prusse + Canadie) Wed Mar 16, 2011 9:42 pm

It was generally well known that Gilbert Beilschmidt was not a morning person. He was never on the streets earlier than 1pm, and that was on a good day. This didn't usually bother many people, since most things in the crime world didn't start until noon at the earliest anyway. However, when it was for work work, he'd always had problems with his superiors over this particular issue.

After all, being a cop, you were supposed to get up whenever the hell you were told. If your commanding officer said get up at four AM, you were supposed to get up at four AM. This had never sat well with him, and it was one of the things he thought of as a perk of his particular brand of police work.

This morning, unlike most others, Gilbert actually had a reason to wake up and get moving early. In Italy, most of the big criminals, the ones Gilbert was trying to get close too, were busy at Church on Sundays. This meant even the petty criminals he did work with a lot, the junkies, thieves, and pimps were either staying out of sight, or in church as well. They didn't want to get caught doing something on this particular day to piss off the big bosses, who would make sure they paid the price.

Catholics.

Every last one of the was nuts.

The only one he'd ever had the desire to humor on the Religion front, was Williams. He'd met the younger cop while visiting his brother in Canada a while ago, and Gil had dropped by the local police station to drop in unannounced on a friend who had recently been transferred. They'd hit it off, and Matthew Williams was one of the few people that Gilbert kept in contact with as much as was possible. Sometimes he couldn't due to his job, but most of the time, it wasn't odd for him to send an e-mail, or phone call when he got the chance.

Lately, he'd been a bit more lax, since nothing much was going on. This was also one of the main reasons he wasn't too worried about ditching the area where his shitty little apartment (that fit perfectly with the type of role he was playing) was, and heading off to a nicer part of the city. He was usually really careful about when he moved to the high-dollar areas, it drew more attention, and that was something he normally couldn't really allow.

But today was Sunday, and everyone was going about the whole 'day of Rest' thing. Since even the lower criminals had been taking it easy on Sundays recently, he'd decided to take advantage, and use the day to meet up with his friend, who he hadn't seen in person in quite some time. Video chat was not the same as a face-to-face conversation. Even so, his conversations with Matthew via Skype, or the phone, or any other form of communications they could use, had grown to mean more to Gilbert then any of the conversations he held with the people he saw and worked with on a day to day basis.

Hood pulled up to cover the attention-grabbing white of his hair, eyes covered by a pair of expensive looking sunglasses, Gilbert entered the cafe they'd decided to meet at, a good be earlier then he'd originally planned.

He blamed this on the soreness that had started to form the night before. The bruises on his arms and face were just as eye-catching as his bleached out coloring. He didn't think too much of them, used to having them somewhere on his person, though he wished that he'd been able to avoid these ones in particular. He hadn't wanted to visit Matthew while he was all battered, he was hoping beyond hope that his friend wouldn't ask where he got them, because it would be totally unawesome to explain that he'd gotten in a fight with some desperate junkie that'd gotten pissed when Gilbert, no, “Fritz” (His street name) had refused to sell below the normal price. He could have lied to anyone else, making up some amazing and complex story, but Gilbert was aware of enough to know that Matthew would be able to see through and just give him that “Really? Seriously? Try again.” look.

He hated that look.

It took less then a second to spot Matthew sitting by the window, and he stalked over, pulling his sunglasses off, dropping down into the chair opposite of the blond detective. He had to squint in the light of the cafe, red eyes feeling a bit too tired for this. Leaning back in his seat, cocky laziness coming off of him in waves, as he gave his friend a confident grin, “Guten Tag, Chickie.“

Guest

When tapping his fingers on the table becomes tedious and more than a little excruciating in its dull redundancy, Matthew takes a deep breath. He leaned back, looking at his cooling cappuccino, and picked it up daintily, with vague interest. He sipped it for a few moments before putting it down again in distaste--between cold coffee and lukewarm coffee, he wasn't sure which was worse. He sighed heavily, checking his watch. Of course, no matter how close they were as friends, Gilbert would have no reservations whatsoever about being late. To the pale German, the world revolved on one axis: Gilbert Beilschmidt.

There was truly no alternative. Gilbert would be late--well, more late than he already was--and Matthew would have to wait. The blond Canadian didn't mind so much, though. What would be, would be. There was truly no changing the type of man Gilbert was, and Matthew rather preferred him like this anyway. Gilbert gave him the taste of recklessness he doubted he could get anywhere else. Gilbert was the driving force behind a solid 80% of Matthew Williams' smiles these days. Seeing him would make it even better.

Matthew had, in fact, been looking forward to their finally meeting up in person once more. He'd also been slightly anxious about it, however. Being the paranoid man he was, Matthew couldn't help being worried that they'd be recognized by a mafia member or by a cop. All the police on the mafia job knew that Gilbert was undercover, and all the mafia were (if all continued to be going smoothly) deliciously unaware of the progress being made against them.

He hadn't been expecting anything in particular. A goofy grin, or an unintentionally rude comment. Nothing like what he saw when Gilbert stepped into the small café. The sunglasses hid close to none of the bruises on the pale, delicate skin. It was delicate, too, though Gilbert would have a conniption if he heard any part of himself be described as "delicate." Matthew almost rose from his chair, but held still. It drained from him a large amount of self-control--the sight of those black-and-blue marks emotionally agonized him innately.

Gilbert did end up plopping into a chair just like Matthew had envisioned. Lazy, carefree and oh-so-confident. Gilbert was truly everything Matthew wasn't, but Matthew was rarely jealous. They complemented one another in their opposite personalities. They were a dynamic pair, and Matthew wouldn't give up their friendship for the world.

"Gilbert, what happened?" His greeting went unsaid; Gilbert knew very well that the soft smile he'd earned before the demand was hello enough. "You look like you were hit with a speeding Vespa." He frowned in concern, folding his arms over his chest with a heated huff.