Private Box

Date/Timing: 20 June 2006
Setting: Gottlieb home; Berlin, Germany
.
Hermann sits back, pushes his glasses up onto his forehead, rubs his eyes.
His laptop emits a dejected /beep.
Hermann groans, lets his glasses drop back into place.
- Compile failed. Try again? Y/N? -
The cursor blinks, taunting him.
„I should've stuck with physics,“ he mutters.
The cursor blinks, utterly unmoved.
Hermann sighs, exits the compiler and programming environment, powers down the machine, sets his glasses on the keyboard. With a deep breath, he pushes to his feet, hobbles to the sitting room.
Bastien sulks on the couch, staring at the television with the volume on low.
Hermann eases down beside him. „What're we watching?“
„Football,“ he sighs. „Germany versus Ecuador.“
Hermann shifts to better cushion his wings.
Muffled cheering from the screen as the German team scores.
Bastien grumbles, slouches further.
„You can't be upset about the score.“
Bastien rolls his eyes.
„So why aren't you more excited?“
„I could be there,“ he grumps.
„Be where?“
„At the match. Anaïs' family had tickets and she asked me to come along.“
„Father wouldn't let you.“
„Of course not! It's not like it's the /World Cup, the home team, and's been sold out for my entire /life.“
„Your view is probably better from here than it would be at the stadium.“
Bastien scoffs. „They have a private box. I could be in /private box at the bloody /World Cup.“
Hermann blinks, swallows. „How on Earth did they manage that?“
Bastien shrugs. „She didn't really know, but she said it seemed like no big thing to them. Like, it was just any old match.“
„They must be ... rather well-off.“
„Her dad owns part of some big company, I guess.“
„Still, taking World Cup tickets lightly ....“
„I knooooooow! I could be there with them!“ wails Bastien. „But, /nooooo, I'm stuck here!“
„Ah, but do they have cookie dough at the stadium?“
Bastien fixes him with a dubious look.
„Mrs Krüger left some in the freezer, I believe.“
„Really?“
Hermann nods. „I'll bring it out to defrost a bit. We should be able to stuff ourselves stupid by the half.“
„Cool, I guess,“ huffs Bastien.
Hermann pushes to his feet, ruffles—
„Not cool!“
—Bastien's hair, and shuffles to the kitchen.
Category:Ficlet
Category:Berlin (setting)
Category:Hermann
Category:Hermann has wings
Category:Hermann's POV
Category:Hermann (ficlet)
Category:Bastien
Category:Bastien (ficlet)
Category:Anais (mention)
Category:Lars (mention)
Category:Ficlets with images