10-08-2016, 08:17 PM
The woman finished her registration at the desk, and Jaxen was easily able to overhear her name, "professor Petra Dreher."
Of course he'd been holding the Ancient Power the whole time for that very purpose. When she turned, room key in hand, an antique room key, the kind that went into a lock, she looked at him curiously, and Jaxen was able to completely see her face.
It made his heart beat hard. She was one of the hottest women he'd ever seen. She had deep, dark eyes, a sharp nose, high cheekbones and a slender chin. Her hair was velvet brown. Her shirt was open at the neck, tucked into the skirt tight at her waist. Her heels clicked on the stone floor as she moved away, a sly smile on her face like she knew a secret about him. Jaxen winked and watched her leave. Maybe this hotel was going to be worth slumming it.
He checked in himself, and had to pay extra for a suite because all the regular rooms were full. Guess the place was more touristy than he first thought.
He was pushing the key into the lock when a door opened across the hall. He turned as Petra emerged, wearing leggings and a zip-up hoodie cut close to the body in athletic styles. Jaxen looked her up and down, landing finally on her sneakers. "Have a good run,"
he told her, mouth half smirked. She met his gaze, swung her long hair into a pony tail and walked to the stairs. The cut of her leggings trailed her thighs so perfectly, he had to shake himself out of the trance before going inside.
As one did after long flights, he showered, shaved, dressed and took a good nap. Not only was he battling jet-lag, but he needed to be awake all night. Stalking Trinity College was going to take just a little bit of work. Another famous book was housed there, a Bible of some sort that didn't interest Jaxen. Book of Kells, or something.
It was two hours after sunset when he exited the hotel room. He half wondered if he'd see Petra again, and peered down the carpet running the length of the hall, but was disappointed.
Downstairs, the lobby had been transformed into spillover from the bar. Curious as to what kind of vodka was served in a place like this, he found a stool, an uncomfortable wooden one, and made it his kingdom for the next few minutes.
"Vodka with lime. On rocks,"
he told the bartender. The man was dressed with a black vest and shirt, a short, moderately trendy haircut. He should know his stuff.
"What sir?"
Jaxen blinked, eyes shooting to the glass shelves behind the man. "Vodka with lime, on rocks."
But the man only shook his head, apologized and asked him to repeat himself.
"I'm fucking russian, I want a vodka. With lime. On rocks. Ice. Rocks. That vodka, that one right there."
He pointed at a gold tipped bottle on the top shelf. The bartender finally understood.
"Ohh!"
He nodded and promptly scrambled off to retrieve the bottle. Jaxen looked around like he was going crazy.
"Is your accent my friend,"
someone said next to him. Jaxen turned to see an older gentleman in a suit and loosened tie. He was portly and white-haired, but his accent was clearly eastern. "Not many Russians in this part of the Custody. Fewer Moscovites."
The old man twirled a martini glass between his fingers, an empty martini glass. Olive pits sunk to the bottom. He pointed to a corner, and Jaxen leaned around the man to see. A plastic figurine of the new Arch was displayed proudly below the Dominance flag on the wall. The circle of spikes looked like a sickly crown of thorns.
"I am a long way from home,"
he said with a shrug. About then, the bartender placed the familiar, short old-fashioned glass before him. "Lime you idiot,"
Jaxen was on the verge of using the Ancient Power just to float himself a lime. But he thought better of himself at the last minute. The bartender apologized again and soon returned with a sad little wedge. Jaxen frowned and squeezed it into the liquid.
The old man next to him laughed, left a tip and wished him luck. Maybe next time he could hire an interpreter. Jaxen toasted in his departure to interpreters and sipped the drink while browsing maps of the area.
Of course he'd been holding the Ancient Power the whole time for that very purpose. When she turned, room key in hand, an antique room key, the kind that went into a lock, she looked at him curiously, and Jaxen was able to completely see her face.
It made his heart beat hard. She was one of the hottest women he'd ever seen. She had deep, dark eyes, a sharp nose, high cheekbones and a slender chin. Her hair was velvet brown. Her shirt was open at the neck, tucked into the skirt tight at her waist. Her heels clicked on the stone floor as she moved away, a sly smile on her face like she knew a secret about him. Jaxen winked and watched her leave. Maybe this hotel was going to be worth slumming it.
He checked in himself, and had to pay extra for a suite because all the regular rooms were full. Guess the place was more touristy than he first thought.
He was pushing the key into the lock when a door opened across the hall. He turned as Petra emerged, wearing leggings and a zip-up hoodie cut close to the body in athletic styles. Jaxen looked her up and down, landing finally on her sneakers. "Have a good run,"
he told her, mouth half smirked. She met his gaze, swung her long hair into a pony tail and walked to the stairs. The cut of her leggings trailed her thighs so perfectly, he had to shake himself out of the trance before going inside.
As one did after long flights, he showered, shaved, dressed and took a good nap. Not only was he battling jet-lag, but he needed to be awake all night. Stalking Trinity College was going to take just a little bit of work. Another famous book was housed there, a Bible of some sort that didn't interest Jaxen. Book of Kells, or something.
It was two hours after sunset when he exited the hotel room. He half wondered if he'd see Petra again, and peered down the carpet running the length of the hall, but was disappointed.
Downstairs, the lobby had been transformed into spillover from the bar. Curious as to what kind of vodka was served in a place like this, he found a stool, an uncomfortable wooden one, and made it his kingdom for the next few minutes.
"Vodka with lime. On rocks,"
he told the bartender. The man was dressed with a black vest and shirt, a short, moderately trendy haircut. He should know his stuff.
"What sir?"
Jaxen blinked, eyes shooting to the glass shelves behind the man. "Vodka with lime, on rocks."
But the man only shook his head, apologized and asked him to repeat himself.
"I'm fucking russian, I want a vodka. With lime. On rocks. Ice. Rocks. That vodka, that one right there."
He pointed at a gold tipped bottle on the top shelf. The bartender finally understood.
"Ohh!"
He nodded and promptly scrambled off to retrieve the bottle. Jaxen looked around like he was going crazy.
"Is your accent my friend,"
someone said next to him. Jaxen turned to see an older gentleman in a suit and loosened tie. He was portly and white-haired, but his accent was clearly eastern. "Not many Russians in this part of the Custody. Fewer Moscovites."
The old man twirled a martini glass between his fingers, an empty martini glass. Olive pits sunk to the bottom. He pointed to a corner, and Jaxen leaned around the man to see. A plastic figurine of the new Arch was displayed proudly below the Dominance flag on the wall. The circle of spikes looked like a sickly crown of thorns.
"I am a long way from home,"
he said with a shrug. About then, the bartender placed the familiar, short old-fashioned glass before him. "Lime you idiot,"
Jaxen was on the verge of using the Ancient Power just to float himself a lime. But he thought better of himself at the last minute. The bartender apologized again and soon returned with a sad little wedge. Jaxen frowned and squeezed it into the liquid.
The old man next to him laughed, left a tip and wished him luck. Maybe next time he could hire an interpreter. Jaxen toasted in his departure to interpreters and sipped the drink while browsing maps of the area.