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Despite Basch’s perpetually pinched expression whenever he saw Roderich, the Austrian was fairly certain he wasn’t quite as annoyed as he put on when they would run into each other, usually when he was accompanying Lottie, as both she and Roderich continued to share certain hobbies and habits, and had a tendency to frequent the same places. The loss of Lottie was a pain he felt even now, but Basch taking care of her had put him greatly at ease, and, in any case, he felt that Basch may be warming up to him; perhaps not with the same affection he may have once had, but the blond could be cordial even when his sister wasn’t around.
Though, he did still feel a pang at the loss of their own kinship, even after so many decades.
Many times, Roderich considered that Lottie may be more alike himself, even more so than others of their kind, whatever that kind was, and so he was glad she never had to truly be on her own, as he had been on occasion. There had been an ease between them, an ease that allowed them to intuitively understand each other, and it was a connection he sorely missed.
Roderich supposed this same reasoning may be why he tended to keep such a close eye on Florian as well.
Who was, in fact, in danger of running late.
He glanced down at his wristwatch; if they wanted to be at Lottie’s birthday dinner, they would need to leave within the next half hour to make the train, and Basch would pitch a fit if he had to wait to pick them up. Roderich had insisted they could walk or find a cab as Basch and Lottie did not live too far from the station, but the other man had all but ignored the suggestion, stating that he didn’t want to count on Roderich’s—nor Florian’s—sense of direction, and it would only be more of a hassle if he had to track them down when they—and Basch had had the gall to say “inevitably!”—got themselves lost.
Roderich had scowled at the time, glaring down at the phone in his hands, but begrudgingly conceded Basch may have a point, as slight as it may be.
He would probably need to go fetch Kugelmugel; they had a habit of getting distracted and it was likely he’d find them elbow-deep in some creative project that caught their fancy and lost all track of time. Roderich wasn’t sure from where they’d picked up that particular habit; it almost certainly wasn’t from the other Germans.
His thoughts were interrupted by thudding footsteps rushing down the staircase and Florian’s voice ringing “I’m ready! I’m ready! I didn’t forget!” following closely behind. Only a few seconds later did they come into view, neatly dressed, but snowy hair slightly disheveled, pale strands sticking out of hastily-woven plaits and face flushed from exertion as they looked up at him.
Roderich took a moment to study the other, and a small part, a secret part, of himself felt pleased that there was someone besides his sister who resembled him. Growing up with the other Germans hadn’t been terrible, but seeing the same blond hair and blue eyes over and over again had only served as a reminder that he had been an outsider, which had diminished with time but never fully went away. Even Lottie had favoured Basch from the very beginning, a cherubic little creature with flaxen hair and sea-green eyes and a peaches-and-cream complexion. But while Florian hadn’t escaped the fair hair, their resemblance to each other could be found in the shape and shade of their eyes, the curve of their lips and tilt of their noses, and the roundness of their cheeks.
He sighed, glancing back down at his watch, and returned his gaze to Florian. “We can’t go with your hair like that,” he mused, reaching out to tug at one of the braids. “We still have about ten minutes before we’ll truly be late; let’s go sit and I’ll fix it for you.”