Don't Call Me Stupid || Richard & Gunther
He had been staring at the stark white walls for more than an hour, with a pen clutched in his right hand and a blank piece of paper on the table in front of him--inspiration was dancing just beyond his reach that day, as if going out of it's way to taunt him. If he had been thinking with the entirely rational portion of his mind he wouldn't have condescended to give a care in the world, as he had years and years of time ahead of him in which to write to his heart's content. But his patience had never been above average, and he was beginning to feel rather put out.
There were generally ways in which to cope with writer's block, were there not? He could easily go for a walk, or listen to some music, or go out and have a cigarette, or even... Anything, really. When he had seen action often, back in his term among the living, it had taken next to nothing to get inspiration flowing, but this life-a word which here means death-had nothing in the way of inspiration to offer, at all.
But the things that helped him once again feel the need to put ink to paper had long since begun to lose their potency. He would need to leave things for a while, until he found something to write about that he hadn't touched on a million times before. You could certainly stand a walk anyway, he thought to himself. Fresh air hardly ever hurts, regardless of how exceedingly cold the weather happens to get.
Already thoroughly convinced that a walk would do him good, he soon stood outside in the snow, surrounded by the tiny township that he had come to think of as a home. At first it had been completely and utterly foreign, but time soon took care of that, rendering the landscape dreadfully familiar.
About to set off when his ears caught the sound of muffled music. It was at first a little slow, but picked up as seconds passed Richard by and became rather upbeat. Cheerful. Cheerful was a fitting word for the melody. It reminded him of simpler times, back in the years before enlisting, when he'd take a moment to sit alone with Mary and listen to the radio and just wind down for a while, or dance, or do whatever it was that the two had seen fit to go about doing. Except that the music wasn't in English--no, it was... Was that German?
A little indent in his forehead manifested as he frowned. Then there was a moment's hesitation, before he started in the direction of the melodies, his curiosity having been sufficiently piqued. It was coming from a house in the town--nothing but an apartment, really, but that was all the town had, save for a few buildings that nobody had actually gained access to as of yet. He knocked a few times, then stood in silence as he waited to see if anyone answered.
