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@exceptionalthief
────── This is an independent and private roleplay account for HANS GRUBER as featured in Die Hard (1988). The rendition is entirely my own and has been worked on and developed over a fair number of years of writing and roleplaying. ░ this account is heavily affiliated with @zeitlosleben .
A few rules to make sure that we're on the same page:
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𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓼 // ∞ ↳ { non-mutuals do not reblog }
Of course she would rub it in. Salt in the wound. Etcetera. How very much like her. Hans didn’t gratify her with an in-depth explanation as to why he hadn’t invested because that would only serve to worsen his mood. Instead, he leaned forward to snatch the newspaper from her hands (and frankly, if she ended up with a paper cut, that would be a perk). “Yes, insight is a wonderful thing isn’t it?” In one swift movement, he half-folded the pages and tossed them aside. “Now you will understand why I have no time for whatever it is your bored mind has come up with today,” he waved her off. If she wasn’t going to help, or attempt to at least, then he wouldn’t humour her. “Hard for you to believe, I know, but I have more important and more pressing issues to deal with.” Fomenting a plot to get what ought to be his was now at the top of his list. Money. So much money. And he could have had it. No, he told himself, he could have it. He just need to figure out how. His eyes narrowed into thin, cruel slits. “We might have to move to America after all, Mein Liebling.”
"Arschloch." She muttered quietly when he took the newspaper so abruptly that the paper left a cut on her index finger. The burning sensation came first and then some minimal blood, that she simply got rid of by bringing her finger to her lips to clean it away. -- It was evident that both his ego and pride had been hurt and honestly? Eleanor couldn't care any less about the money some stranger or big corporation was making overseas, in fact, she would have continue to laugh at him for his lack of judgement that drove him to make such a terrible decision, a decision that now was costing him millions. Not so smart after all, right?.
Him mentioning that they had to move to America, that was what got her real quiet. "America? you can't be serious." What did he want to do in America? there was nothing there, nothing for them at least. "What? don't tell me you want to go there, walk right into this corporation and tell them 'Oh, I changed my mind, I want to be part of this now'." What a way to embarrass himself. "Or even better, you're planning on coming up with this elaborated and complex heist to take their money and then fly away. -- Ridiculous."
Why? Why did it sound so preposterous to her? A heist was a heist. She, of all people, should know. He closed his mouth just as soon as he’d opened it. No she would not enjoy seeing him gape. Instead, Hans enforced on himself a composed demeanour, something he’d had to master over the course of their relationship - and something he was becoming remarkably good at. Sitting back in his armchair with his elbows digging on the armrests and his fingers crossing over his abdomen, he gave her a long appraising look. “Do enlighten me, mein Liebling.” Now, he was starting, or just about, to enjoy himself. Discussing things over was like a game. The rules changed, yes, and the goalposts always shifted (because one couldn’t and wouldn’t change one’s nature) but that was part of the fun. Like a sparring match.
“Correct me if I’m wrong but this is what we do. Hm? We steal. We take what we want and we enjoy the fruits of our labor. Why should this one be any different? Because it is too much?” A half smirk floated on his lips. “Perhaps that scares you? Is that it? Pity. I didn’t think until now that I had overestimated you but…” The smirk blossomed into a grin before an obnoxiously serious look furrowed his brow. “Perhaps,” he said again. “Perhaps you should stay here, then.”
ALAN RICKMAN | Meet the Filmmaker | NYC | 19.06.2015
"Have you ever been told that you look like that one actor. The one from that show. I think his name was... Dumas?... No. Wait. Got it. Dane. Alexander Dane!"
There are times, irritating as they might be, where Hans finds himself speechless, albeit for a handful of seconds. Long enough for it to register yet also long enough for his facial expression to take over, for his features to rearrange themselves before words can, at long last - or so it feels - leave his mouth. The vexation is plain enough in the deep furrow of his brows, the disdainful downturn of his mouth. Hans does nothing - and why should he? - to conceal any of it. “What on Earth are you blathering about?”
Rhetorical. Still, he’s already taken the measure of that beast of a man in front of him and therefore raises a hand to prevent an answer he does not care for. “I don’t know this person. Nor am I interested in finding out who he is. Now, if you’re quite finished…” A wave of his fingers act as dismissal. Why waste more breath on such an inane conversation.
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every hans moment ever (68/86)
HANS GRUBER + ELEANOR GOTTSCHALK ;;
I want to kiss your lips with my hand around your throat.
{ @exceptionalthief }
A delight. Hans wished he had it in him to refrain from rolling his eyes. He gave in. Barely put up a fight against that specific urge. Eleanor did that to him: appealed to that weaker part of it, the one that could be mollified much too easily if one knew just how. And she did. And she knew that. “This isn’t a new suit,” he snapped, folding the newspaper now that she was here and making herself comfortable and him, well, not. Her lack of personal space had always got on his nerves. “Since you’re so curious…” The paper was thrust in her lap without another word. The front page would tell her nothing. The business section was what interested him, obviously. There she would see for herself the article that mentioned the booming Nakatomi Corporation - and the millions of dollars they were making. So easy. Almost within reach if he could quieten the envy inside him long enough to come up with a plan.
And there it was, the reaction that she had been expecting, and that she knew she was going to obtain eventually if she kept insisting and pushing just the right buttons. A reaction that had her flashing a brief smile at him -- She grabbed the newspaper from her lap and skimmed through it to try and find what he had just been reading before she entered the room. Nakatomi Corporation. She had heard this name from the lips from others, including his own. "Seems like at least someone out there is having a good day." When it came to the world of finances, her lack of proper education put limits on what she could understand about this subject. She could have asked the right questions that would help her understand the situation at hand slightly better, but giving him a chance to know of her ignorance over the matter, more than likely was going to be something that she would regret at some point. Fortunately, the newspaper did a decent job of explaining things at a surface level. "Is this what has you all upset? Correct me if I'm wrong. Isn't this the same Nakatomi Corporation, the one you had a chance to invest in, put you passed on it, because according to you… It would be only a waste of your money and time? this will explain your awful mood. Poor you."
Of course she would rub it in. Salt in the wound. Etcetera. How very much like her. Hans didn’t gratify her with an in-depth explanation as to why he hadn’t invested because that would only serve to worsen his mood. Instead, he leaned forward to snatch the newspaper from her hands (and frankly, if she ended up with a paper cut, that would be a perk). “Yes, insight is a wonderful thing isn’t it?” In one swift movement, he half-folded the pages and tossed them aside. “Now you will understand why I have no time for whatever it is your bored mind has come up with today,” he waved her off. If she wasn’t going to help, or attempt to at least, then he wouldn’t humour her. “Hard for you to believe, I know, but I have more important and more pressing issues to deal with.” Fomenting a plot to get what ought to be his was now at the top of his list. Money. So much money. And he could have had it. No, he told himself, he could have it. He just need to figure out how. His eyes narrowed into thin, cruel slits. “We might have to move to America after all, Mein Liebling.”
listen; when I say give me a toxic pairing I don’t mean ‘he’ll be mean and she’ll be sad about it’. I mean ‘he’ll be mean and she’ll set his fucking car on fire’ but ppl aren’t ready for that idk
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every hans moment ever (67/86)
{ @exceptionalthief ;; cont.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest, waiting for him to say more, and do more, but there was nothing. Eleanor had patience, but not with him. To both their misfortune, they knew each other down to the core. She didn't have to look at his face to know that he wanted her gone, that he would prefer her to be as far away as possible from him, and she could do exactly that, occupy herself with something else and let him torture himself with his own issues, but why? -- "Me, my dear? Haven't you heard? I tend to be quite a delight." She invited herself in, taking a seat close to him. Her eyes went to the newspaper he had in his possession, already hating the mere existence of it between the two, and part of her already so tempted to simply take it from his hands. "So what was it this time? Did someone insult your new suit? hurt your ego? out smarter you? should I keep guessing or are you going to tell me? but knowing you, it's probably the latter one, wasn't it? shame I didn't get to witness such an event."
A delight. Hans wished he had it in him to refrain from rolling his eyes. He gave in. Barely put up a fight against that specific urge. Eleanor did that to him: appealed to that weaker part of it, the one that could be mollified much too easily if one knew just how. And she did. And she knew that. “This isn’t a new suit,” he snapped, folding the newspaper now that she was here and making herself comfortable and him, well, not. Her lack of personal space had always got on his nerves. “Since you’re so curious…” The paper was thrust in her lap without another word. The front page would tell her nothing. The business section was what interested him, obviously. There she would see for herself the article that mentioned the booming Nakatomi Corporation - and the millions of dollars they were making. So easy. Almost within reach if he could quieten the envy inside him long enough to come up with a plan.
𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓼 // ∞ ↳ { non-mutuals do not reblog }
❝ you’re always like this when you’re worried. disagreeable. ❞
“How perceptive of you.” Though the barely suppressed roll of his eyes isn’t so much directed at her own disagreeable intrusion - trust Eleanor to always impeccably time her meddling - but at the blatant obviousness of her statement. Hans keeps his eyes on the paper he is now only pretending to be reading because how can he possibly focus on anything when she is standing right there looking daggers at him with, no doubt, the tenacious expectation that he will deign glance her way and acknowledge her existence by engaging into an argument. And he will. Eventually, he will have to. Again, he sighs, though his nose this time with his lips tightly pinched and his fingers clamping the sheet a little more tightly.
“And I suppose you are an absolute ray of sunshine when you’re worried.” He waves his hand at her. “I’m busy, Eleanor.”
Hans x Eleanor (it was in the book!);; 2/? ↳ @idiosynchronics
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