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Snap Judgment	By : FlayraDowitcher Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 1461 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
***Warnings: Language, bullying, humor, drug use
***Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. I am making no money off of this fic
Chapter 2: Have You Ever Stared At Your Own Back?
"Hey, Ivan? While you're setting up those cameras, refill my drink, will ya?" Gilbert was lounging in his swim shorts at the indoor pool room. It wasn't a very big pool but it was more than enough for people to enjoy. Gilbert hated the choice in Caribbean décor, but excused it only for the wet bar.
Ivan was trying to set up his camera equipment but jumped at Gilbert's beck and call. "What would you like?" He took the fancy glass from the other.
"Another mojito. Extra mint."
Ivan hurried over to the wet bar, put the glass down on the counter, and stared at all the mixers before him. He gulped. He just realized that he didn't know how to mix drinks. He drank vodka mixed with vodka, and sometimes flavored vodka. 'How does one make a 'mojito'?' Ivan looked around for a box of recipe drink cards or a book of some kind.
"Hey Ivan! What the hell are you doing over there? Growing the mint leaves?" Gilbert laughed at his own little joke.
"Ah, I'm sorry Gilbert, but I don't know how to make one of these."
Gilbert got up from the lounge chair and marched over to the wet bar in annoyance. "Never mind, I'll do it! Now watch and learn so you know how to do it later." He mixed the drink in front of Ivan, explaining to him everything that needed to be done. "And that's how it's done. Got it?"
Ivan smiled and nodded. "Yes!" He was confused when Gilbert put the drink in his hand.
"Now serve it to me." The albino walked back to the lounge chair and plopped, gave a stretch, and held out his hand.
Ivan wiggled his nose and purged his lips in slight displeasure. He was not a full servant, and would have to say as such. "Excuse me, Gilbert, but I'm not a servant while I'm here. I have no issue helping you, but the tone of ordering has to change." The drink was given. "I'm here to take pictures of you, so may I get back to that?"
Gilbert flicked the straw over to his mouth with his tongue. "Just how much is my boss-boyfriend paying you?"
"Why are you asking?" Gilbert glanced at him. "Well, he was very excited about this idea so I am getting paid a lot." Gilbert smirked.
"That makes you MY servant then! If you'll be squatting here for awhile staring at me all the time, then you can do what I ask."
Ivan smiled dangerously. "I don't HAVE to do what you ask."
He didn't faze Gilbert. "Then you're fired." Gilbert slurped the drink. "I bet you he didn't whip out that fat checkbook yet?"
'But I'm not doing this for the money' is what Ivan wanted to say to him. Still, he had to remember that Gilbert was going through a rough patch right now and was probably looking for any chance to have a smidgen of control in his life. The boyfriend held the reigns here. 'Best to be the better person, and in the end, Gilbert will like me better!' "I apologize, Gilbert. I don't mind helping you out around the house while I'm here. But I think a tip is in order for the drink service?" Ivan gleefully held out his hand.
Gilbert glanced at the hand, and then turned away with a smirk. "You want a tip? Don't fry bacon in the nude! Or if that one's not good enough, remember not to take any wooden nickels!"
Ivan sighed. He said Gilbert was popular, but he never said he was clever. The man was all around quite cheesy. "Cornelia made delicious bacon this morning. She made it separate, but I noticed you didn't have one. Do you not like bacon?"
"I love bacon. I just wasn't hungry." He placed the drink on the little table beside him. "Besides, bacon is pure fat and I need to maintain this awesome body!"
"Ah, yes, I see. But I think you look good no matter what, Gilbert!" He laughed happily. "So eat a piece of bacon next time!" He watched Gilbert get up off the chair and walk to the edge of the pool.
"So I can look like you? No thanks buddy." He stretched. "There's a reason why I'm in front of the camera and you're behind the camera."
Ivan's eyebrow twitched.
"Ivan Braginski? You're next!" Ivan stood up, fixed his tie, and straightened out his suit. It was his turn for the senior photo. The picture taking went fine, but it was Gilbert's words that followed.
"Man! Good thing they got my picture before yours, polar bear! I wouldn't want to be after you, what with the cracked lens and all!" Ivan frowned. "It would disfigure my face in the yearbook!"
"HEY! IVAN!" Gilbert woke him from the trance. "Are you going to take my pictures or what? I'm going swimming, so get shooting!"
Ivan just nodded, and went to stand behind the cameras aiming them at the pool. "Just pretend like I'm not here, okay?"
"Don't worry; I've been trying to do that since you got here."
'Let him keep abusing you, Ivan. You survived high school and you will survive this.' He watched through the first lens as Gilbert dove into the pool and took a picture. Ivan wanted to take as many as he could and then pick from the best. Of course, taking pictures was proving to be a challenge because Ivan couldn't keep his eyes off of the porcelain beauty floating through the water. He never knew Gilbert was such a good swimmer, the man moved like a dolphin…or a merman. That gave Ivan the idea for a little photo shoot another time. 'The best part is, I can keep some of these for myself and no one will have to know!'
When Gilbert came out of the pool to dry off Ivan couldn't help but keep watching him through the lens. Gilbert would think he was aiming, but he was really just staring. Gilbert's body may be more lithe than in high school, but it only gave Ivan more to watch and explore. In high school, Ivan would often fantasize about Gilbert corning him in the locker room or janitor's closet. And there, in Ivan's dream, Gilbert would lose all control and become a horny little bunny. Instead, Gilbert would slam him INTO lockers or lock him IN the janitor's closet. He even forced Ivan into the girl's bathroom, where he was soon hit with flying toilet paper rolls accompanied by high pitched screaming. And as always, Ivan paid it no mind.
'Lust must be more powerful than logic,' he said to himself, still staring through the lens. 'And it's still strong now.'
"Hey! Ivan!" Ivan peeked his head up over the camera. "I'm going to go get changed, so just wait here until I'm done. Or are you suppose to take pictures of me dressing as well?"
"No. I assured your boyfriend that I wouldn't take any pictures of the sort." Ivan didn't want to tell Gilbert that his boyfriend asked for a few naked pictures, it would make him upset. While he wanted to see Gilbert naked in all ways and form, he knew it wasn't proper. If he were doing it for HIMSELF with Gilbert's permission, then he would clear his whole schedule just to do the shoot. So instead, he lied. "He was worried that I might try to, but I keep my promises."
"Hm." Was Gilbert's only response and he appeared worried, but the look was short-lived. "Anyway, I'll be back in a few minutes. If you want, start moving your shit to the basement."
"Oh, are you going to be working out?"
"Yeah, something you should start doing." Gilbert glanced him up and down. "I'll have to start calling you 'marshmallow'."
"Then I will call you 'snow bunny'."
"Hell no! No one is allowed to call me that. And before you ask 'why', it's because I don't want to hear that name."
Ivan began putting his equipment away. "Then don't call me 'marshmallow'."
"I'll call you what I want! You work for me!"
"I work for Mr. Callaghan, your boss."
Gilbert flipped him the bird as he stormed out of the pool room. He grumbled all the way up the steps, past Cornelia, and to his room where he slammed the door. Ivan's swift wit just got to him, and if he didn't leave he feared shoving the man into the pool to get even. He thought about Ivan's words as he changed into his workout clothes. Gilbert still could not remember ever bullying him, or who he even was. The thought crossed his mind that Ivan may be just a really creepy guy making things up in his head. The only way to find out would be to check his yearbook, which he should still have in storage. Gilbert decided to hold off on the exercise and got up to the large attic where his stuff was piled. He was barely allowed to have any of his old things, since his boyfriend wanted him to buy everything new and fresh. Gilbert hadn't even looked at his stuff in so long. Even before meeting his lover the boxes were at the base of his closet.
He found the first box and opened it, sneezing at some of the dust. Looking at its top contents, Gilbert smiled fondly at all the soccer trophies and awards. He picked one up to look at the gold nameplate where his name was engraved proudly in bold letters. The sad part was that he couldn't remember what the award was for, and it only had his name on it. With a sigh, he put the trophy back and picked up a soccer photo. This photo he remembered because of the scab he had on his knee when it was taken. Of course, that was the knee he had to pose on with the soccer ball. But he had to laugh as he saw the dried remains of white out, which he must have used to try and cover it on the photo. White out matched his skin pretty well. Beneath his photo was the high school team, and he stood proudly in the middle. He could remember when this was taken as well. Gilbert put the picture to the side and rummaged through further, pushing past cone flags and papers. His fingers hit the small photo album at the bottom, which was on top of his senior yearbook.
Gilbert stared at the photo album for a moment before he chose to pick it up, followed by the yearbook. He hated the photo album yet found himself opening it anyway. It held only a few pictures, seven in total. They were only of his family doing basic family things. There was one picture in the album that was always his favorite but he was a little boy when it was taken. He was with his father and mother in the garden, however, Gilbert had cut off the top of the picture to hide his parents' faces. He hated his father more than his mother, but at the time of doing this he hated them both. Gilbert didn't have the best upbringing and he knew that. The problems had started when his little sister was born. When he was a little boy he couldn't understand why the baby never came home. But after awhile his father told him that the baby had died and she wouldn't be coming home. It didn't sink in until he was five, but as he got older he'd come to learn that tragically the baby had already been dead before delivery. That was when his mother started to 'lose it', as his father always said. She had never been the same after that and only progressively got worse as the years went on. It had started to bother his father, and he would take his frustrations out on him. Gilbert never started fighting back until he was in middle school.
During this time his father also had an affair to make up for the material emotions that weren't coming with his crazy mother. Gilbert was only ten when his half-brother Ludwig was born. When Ludwig was a little older he would come and visit with their father every other weekend, a period of time Gilbert had enjoyed. But Ludwig's mother took him back to Germany with her and Gilbert never saw him again. Ludwig had to be in his late teens by now. Eventually, his mother became too much for him to take care of on his own (since his father was always out and hardly home). The school had gotten word of everything that was going on at home and Gilbert was sent to live with grandparents for a short time. He was only allowed to go back to his house when his mother was taken to a hospital where she would remain. They tried to hide it from him, but Gilbert knew what was wrong and why it was happening. And of course, everything that could go wrong between a father and son did. He was relieved to get out of the house at eighteen but had not spoken to his father or mother since. The doctors told him his mother wouldn't recognize him, so Gilbert never went back and over time things had just…changed. He never cared to see his father again.
"No wonder I bullied Ivan." Gilbert said, slamming the photo album closed and tossing it across the attic. This brought him to the yearbook, which he opened to the bookmarked page first. "Now that's a handsome fella'!" He grinned at his own senior picture. "Yup, I'm still awesome and good looking! Teenage heartthrob!" Yet his happiness was washed away when he read the captions below the picture. Goal(s): To be a star soccer player and play in the big leagues. "Wow…I had forgotten that." He ran a hand through his still damp hair. "Wouldn't this goal have been nice if life didn't kick me in the ass?" The words were laced with sarcasm. He clearly had big dreams but they never came true, and probably never would.
A few rows down he spotted Ivan's smiling senior picture. Gilbert frowned at the caption, which read, Goal(s): To become a professional photographer or play in an orchestra. In a high-pitched voice, Gilbert repeated the goals out loud, and then ended it with a raspberry. He looked up Ivan's name in the back and found the pages in the book. Gilbert smirked at the first one. "Oh boy, a band geek!" he flipped to the next one. "Who the hell is actually IN the chess club? I thought that was an urban club legend!" The next photo was taken during a study hall. "Argyle vest and corduroy pants? No wonder I picked on you, you nerd-turd! You were fucking ASKING for it!" He laughed, which helped to chase away his depressed mood. Then he took to reading all of the signatures and notes written by his friends. Sad part was, he couldn't put a face to any of these names save for one or two.
"Mr. Beilschmidt? Are you alright up there?"
Oh. "I'm fine, Cornelia! Tell Ivan I'll be down in one minute!" He quickly closed up the box of old memories, good and bad, and then left the attic. He planned to never return to that place.
/
Ivan was looking through some of the exercise magazines on the coffee table, wondering why anyone would have such boring reading material. How many different ways can one magazine talk about the joys of walking every month? A better question would be why did Gilbert have these in the basement? Did he do some gym reading here? Even the fact that there was a couch in the exercise room was a bit strange. Gilbert was taking a long time to appear, so Ivan decided to look around the room and study the equipment. Some looked painful. There was one room off to the side and Ivan peeked in to find that it was a single bathroom. Above the sink was a cabinet mirror that was half open. Ivan stepped in to close it, but out of curiosity, chose to peek inside. Looking in someone else's bathroom cabinets was wrong, but Ivan's main goal was to find out as much as he could about Gilbert and bring the man back to what he was.
What he found were normal items, toothbrush, comb, q-tips, lotion, anti-acids, hair gel, and two pill bottles. Ivan's brows lifted as he focused on the pills, reading the labels. They were prescription drugs, but he could only recognize the word 'valium' on one. The other had a strange name, 'Qsymia', which Ivan snapped a picture of with his phone. He would look it up later, being one who is against prescription drugs given without a real cause. Ivan had a pretty good indication what the second one was for, but was surprised by the nerve drug. Gilbert didn't appear to be one who needed calming medication.
"Ivan? You here?" Ivan 'eeped' and flushed the toilet to mask the sound of the cabinet closing.
"Ah, I was just using the bathroom!" He called from the room and pretended to wash his hands. 'Whew!'
"Oh, okay. And for the future, that's MY private bathroom and I would appreciate it if you use the others upstairs instead, okay?"
Ivan came out, drying his hands with the hand towel. "I'll remember next time, sorry."
"It's not your fault, you didn't know." Gilbert gave him a smile while getting onto the rowing machine.
Ivan went behind his cameras; waiting for some proper, photo worthy poses from Gilbert. Exercising was difficult to photograph because Gilbert was sweating and his face was firmly concentrated on the workout. It wasn't very picturesque. But Gilbert sweating and panting heavily in his workout pants and tank top was attractive enough for Ivan to stare at. 'Looking' through the lens he could picture Gilbert beneath him crying out for more as Ivan pounded away. The daydreams were same as in high school, and just like that time, he would get a hard-on. He panicked slightly and had to move away from the cameras, plopping himself down on the couch. Gilbert took no notice of him, so Ivan checked his phone, opening the Internet to look up that drug.
A result on WebMD came up and he checked that first, skimming through until he found the right section. It was what he expected, and the confirmation only made him frown heavily; even made him angry. This drug was a diet pill used for obese people, especially those linked with another condition. It didn't surprise Ivan now why Gilbert didn't touch the bacon or share in the breakfast made. The pill helped to make him feel full and even make certain foods taste less appetizing. It even helped to increase calorie burning with physical exercise, hence Gilbert running on the treadmill. Ivan checked the picture again to see if he photographed the doctor's name, and he did. He gave a little smirk with a chuckle for he knew someone to call that could investigate this doctor. Ivan figured that super-rich Mr. Callaghan liked to keep extra control over Gilbert by forcing him to take such diet drugs for a condition he didn't have. There was no doubt in his mind that Mr. Loverboy wanted to keep Gilbert's form a certain way. Ivan found himself smiling, but it wasn't one of happiness or joy. He was pissed.
"Ivan? Hey, Ivan!" Ivan snapped out of it. "Geez, you sure do zone out a lot! You're not having, like, a mini-seizure, are you? I saw that on Dr. Oz the other day."
"About staring? Well then, it must be true, if Dr. Oz says it."
Gilbert gave him a sarcastic sneer. "Wise guy. And why aren't you taking pictures of me?"
Ivan fiddled with a camera button. "A person looks silly while they're working out, and I only want to capture you at your absolute best!"
"I'm the best ALL the time!" Gilbert laughed, but then Cornelia interrupted them.
"Mr. Beilschmidt? Mr. Callaghan is on the phone for you."
"I'll be right there. Just stay here, Ivan. I'll be right back."
Ivan watched the other disappear up the carpeted steps, but refused to just sit back and wait patiently. Gilbert looked nervous when he was told who was on the phone. Carefully, Ivan snuck up the steps and pushed the white door open just a hinge, listening to the conversation. Gilbert's voice was soft but he could hear what was being said.
"I know, I fucked up. I'm sorry…..yes. Yes, I did that!...why would I lie? What do I have to lie about?...I told you why I canceled!...no….No! I didn't want him doing that! That guy is fucking perverted and I-….w-well no….but-!" There was a long pause. "Okay, fine. I'll call him back and reschedule….yes. Yes. Bye."
The moment Ivan heard Gilbert's fast footsteps he scrambled to get back downstairs. Instead, he lost his balance and ended up bouncing down the stairs on his rump. He hissed in pain, but whimpered as he crawled back to the couch. Ivan had just managed to sit down without a tear as Gilbert barreled down. The angry look on Gilbert's face took away the pain. "Is everything all right?" He had to play dumb.
"Yeah." Gilbert sneered. "It's just fucking dandy."
"Anything I can help you with?"
"No, there's nothing you can do." He sighed and turned to Ivan. "Look, I have to make a phone call and it may take awhile. I'm also going to hop in my car and visit a friend of mine. I can let you off early today, or you can come back in the late afternoon?"
Ivan thought about it. "What about your boss? Won't he be home?"
"No. He's got some cocktail business party tonight."
"Why aren't you going?"
"I just…didn't want to go." Ivan could tell he was lying, so he asked a very bold question.
"Are you not allowed to go? Or were you told you CAN'T go?" Gilbert flashed him a furious glare. "Don't get angry at me, Gilbert. I just noticed the look on your face after you took that phone call from your boss. Now you have to make 'another' phone call and leave to go see a friend. All these signs are pointing to something that is wrong." Ivan stood up and walked over to him, but Gilbert didn't move, only glared. "Sometimes an outside source that has no biased opinion to one or the other can help things out. If you want to tell me what is wrong, maybe I could offer some suggestions. It's just a human being helping another fellow human being." He was biased towards Gilbert, but the man didn't have to know that.
"If I want help from a stranger, I'll ask for it. Thanks for your concern but I'm fine. Just go home and enjoy the rest of your day."
"I would accompany you to your friend's house but I actually have a previous engagement." He had almost forgotten.
"Don't want to be late for the 'double donut' giveaway tonight at the "Flour~ful Bakery"?" Gilbert said from his place in the bathroom, straightening out his hair.
Ivan gave a little pout. "That was mean to say to someone trying to help you."
"Ach! I know! I know, I'm sorry!" He poked his head out with his face clearly a mask of anger and frustration. "I just had to yell at somebody, okay? I know it's no excuse but- goddamnit! I just can't help myself sometimes!"
He disappeared back into the bathroom and Ivan heard the cabinet door open. 'Now I know why he goes for the Valium.' Ivan fiddled sadly with the end of his scarf. 'Gilbert was always funny-angry…not angry.'
Gilbert came back out. "Just do whatever it is you have to. I've got shit to do. Don't know what your schedule is but I'm sure you'll just pop up. You can see yourself out." Gilbert stormed up the steps and never even said 'goodbye' to Ivan.
Which was just what Ivan did. He packed up all his equipment in the back of his black Chevy Equinox. The winter air was chilly and he gave a rapid shiver and said 'brrrr' behind his scarf. He unbuttoned the earflaps on his ushanka to tie under his chin. It was only during the winter season that he hated moving all of his photography gear. There was a loud engine roar beside him, which almost had him slipping on the slight black ice. To his left was a bright red Mustang with white stripes on it, and when the window rolled down it was the smirking face of Gilbert that greeted him.
He lifted his sunglasses. "Hey, Stalin just called. He wants his style back!"
Ivan just rolled his eyes. "Oh, very clever. Stay up all night thinking of that one?"
"Har. Har. So I guess you'll be here tomorrow?"
"Yes sir!"
"Well then, I'll smell ya later!" The car revved off loudly.
Ivan just shook his head. "There goes a dangerous man in a dangerous car. He wasn't even wearing his seatbelt."
/
Gilbert was seated at his normal table by the front window, slightly away from the crowd. This restaurant belonged to this friend, Francis. The man owned the Rouge Rose, a successful restaurant in the heart of the metropolitan area. Gilbert never cared for authentic French food or aged wine, but Francis was one person he could confide in about his life. Francis always gave him this table, let him hang out, and even eat for free. The Bibb and blue salad was his favorite (not authentic, but better than iceberg), which he asked for along with some seltzer water while waiting for Francis to get a break. Gilbert flicked at the rose's petals in the vase as he waited, almost unable to take any more of the French woman singing overhead.
"Don't destroy my lovely roses, Lièvre blanc."
"You know I hate when you call me that." Gilbert looked up at his friend Francis who was still in his serving apron. "I don't know why you have to serve as well. You're the boss."
Francis took the seat across from him and set his wine down beside him. "I enjoy talking to my customers. And not only am I the boss but I humble myself by serving food or wine at some point. You don't want your customers to think that you're better than they are!"
Gilbert picked at his Bibb and blue. "hn."
"What's wrong, Gilbert? You have that look about you. And weren't you supposed to be going to that cocktail party?"
"Pfft. Yeah, the keyword there is 'WAS'."
Francis crossed his arms. "Am I going to get angry?" He asked seriously.
"You might, but I'm not looking for anger in this, okay? Just hear me out." Francis nodded, urging him to continue. "My boss got pissed that I canceled on a photo shoot with some big name big-wig photographer so I'm punished by staying home from the party. Like I'm a stupid teenager again."
Francis sipped his why. "Why did you cancel? You must have had a good reason to."
Gilbert looked around briefly then leaned inward to whisper. "He's a damn pervert, Francis! I know this guy, and when he has to 'position' you, there's too much unnecessary touching, if you catch my drift. Some young kid just starting out in this business probably wouldn't say anything, but I have enough experience and authority to say 'no'."
"Did you tell your boss?"
"Of course I did. All I got was a scolding and a punishment. So on the way here I had to call and reschedule a shoot with the old bastard." Francis just shook his head. "I said I don't need anger, Francis!"
Francis gazed up at the ceiling. "But you know why I get angry, Gilbert. When you tell me these things-"
"I know." Gilbert cut him off. "I need him, Francis."
"No, you don't. How many times have I offered you a key to my place?"
Gilbert glanced at him. "How many times have I declined saying I don't want charity? You know my issues with that, too."
"Then why are you here if you don't want my advice?"
"You've said it all before."
"And it's the truth. But you don't want to hear the truth."
"That's right, I don't." He gulped down the seltzer water. "I just want to complain and have someone listen, that's all."
"If that is what you need then I am here for you." He threaded his fingers. "I only wish you would accept my advice. I know you see everything that's wrong with this. You're not stupid, Gilbert."
"Thanks." He finished off the Bibb salad. "Well, I'm done. I feel better after talking. Oh, get this!" He asked for more seltzer. "My 'wonderful' lover hired a private photographer to take candid shots of me."
"Really?"
"Yeah, some Russian nerd who went to high school with me. Apparently I bullied him."
Francis raised a brow. "He let another man just come into the house and take pictures? Doesn't that seem odd to you?"
Gilbert shrugged his shoulders. "He's nice enough. There is something off about him." He thanked the waiter for the seltzer. "I don't know how he talked my boss into this. But, I have to do what Mr. Wonderful says."
"Why don't you ask this photographer exactly what was said?"
"What's the point? He probably won't even say much."
"This may be a bit far-fetched, but if you bullied this man and he's so close to you now, do you think he might try and sabotage you?"
Gilbert raised a white brow. "Sabotage?" He took a sip. "I doubt it. If anything, I think he might have a little crush on me. But, who doesn't?" He smirked proudly. "I am practically irresistible. Mouth-watering. Alluring."
Francis' brow twitched. "Yes, but I am stunningly more attractive than you."
"Pfft. Hardly. With this fair skin and exotic features? I win hands down."
Francis flipped his blonde hair. "Yet I am gorgeous, a marvelous cook, and I fluently speak the 'language of love'! You speak guttural German. Hardly romantic. You sound like a bullfrog trying to seduce a princess. Or in most cases, a prince."
Gilbert puffed his cheeks. "Excuse me? But German is a strong and dominant language! At least when we argue and shout orders, we don't sound like poodles dancing on rubber balls in pink tutus! We sound like…like proud leaders! Alphas! Like strong bears or wolves!"
"I see. Tell me that part about Adolf Hitler again?" Francis pretended to be intrigued.
Gilbert gave a snarled laugh. "By the way, your Bibb and blue has been sucking lately."
"Insults will get you nowhere." Francis smiled. "Are you sure you're alright, Gilbert?"
Gilbert sighed. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'm just going to go buy a few things to make me feel better, and then get drunk in the hot tub."
"Make sure the photographer is not there. He might want to join."
Gilbert got up and put his trench coat on. "If I so much as look at or sleep with another man..."
"And that worries me the most." Francis walked him out. "It's cold tonight. The weather said we might get snow."
"I hate snow. I only like it if I'm not going anywhere." He turned to Francis with a smile. "Thanks Francis."
He returned the smile. "Any time, mon ami." Francis watched as Gilbert disappeared down the street to his car. 'He's so depressingly selfish. And that bastard he's with is even worse.' He turned back into the restaurant.
End Chapter 2 TBC
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Snap Judgment