like a flan in the cupboard
Jan. 28th, 2009 08:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheensome Hetalia nonsense.
The couple was one of the oddest the clerk had seen in some time, and given this was one of the city’s more discreet hotels, this was saying a lot.
“Oh, Roderich,” the woman was saying. She was one of those chic Europeans who looked somehow glamorous and no-nonsense all at once, if a little out of another time. She wore a short yellow dress and a long dark coat that’d come off her shoulders. It was hard to place her age. “There is nothing wrong with a little activity. We will check in, and then we’ll go to the museum---one of your tables is showing there right now, remember? – but after we should walk a little! It has been so long since I have seen this city!”
“I suppose,” said the man. He was a very elegant sort, with a necktie and a face so pale it might’ve been powdered. He spoke in a deep accent. German, if the clerk had to guess, but that didn’t seem quite right. She had an awful ear. “But it would be unseemly to miss supper, after we have missed lunch…” He paused. “And the meeting, as well.”
At this, the lady pulled a face. “My love, I know you wished to be pampered but let me pamper you, please?”
He scowled, deeply. Perfect, austere lips pinched at the sides. It was a pity he should look so dark, one had a strong impression he’d be even lovelier than her if he would smile. “But…” He sounded a little helpless. It was then that the clerk noticed it was the lady carrying nearly all of their bags. These consisted of a regular large duffel bag, piled on top of a considerably less regular wheeling chest, and a case for some form of instrument. The gentleman carried a slim leather briefcase. “One must think of one’s image...”
And here the woman stood on her toes and murmured something to him in a language the clerk could not quite place. He blinked, and gave a halting response in an entirely different language. German, the clerk decided. The woman with him laughed.
“Let me check us in,” she said. “Only a moment, and I think there’s a piano in the lounge.”
At this, the man’s eyes lit up behind his outdated glasses. He allowed himself to be taken by the arm and gently shepherded in the proper direction, while she handed the bags over and returned to the desk. She combed her long hair over her shoulders in the manner of a woman who’d done her job quite well. There was a flower tucked behind her ear. It seemed real, and quite fresh in spite of the coming chill of fall. She leaned over in quite the conspiratorial way.
“He loves music you see. So fond of his composers! Politics, though…” she wrinkled her nose. "Edelstein-Héderváry, I think it’s under?”
The woman was most gracious, presenting a beaten foreign passport and a business ID when asked. She accepted the cardkeys, and it was then that the clerk noticed the scars on the back of her hands. The clerk said nothing of this, of course. They’d booked one of the nicer honeymoon suites.
“Congratulations,” she said, as a matter of course.
“Thank you!” said the woman—Elisaveta, the ID said her name was—she looked terribly pleased. “Though to tell you the truth, it was actually some time ago…The wars, you know.”
The clerk nodded, unsure of which war she meant. The news was always talking about several at once. The guest looked sad for a moment, but it was only a moment. She placed her scarred hands on her hips. She didn’t seem the sort who ever thought of gloves. “Things are better now, though. We were separated for a time, but now that we aren’t, it seems right to celebrate. Business trip or not.”
Ah. A second honeymoon, then. It all became clear. “We are very happy for you, M’am.” Elisaveta beamed. She chatted a little more, about the nice weather in America and, for some reason, about the condition of those horses that went through the park then fetched her evidently estranged husband from the lounge. She ferried him out the door, arm looped with his. Her pace sharp and still no-nonsense, and his rather sedate. Later, the clerk would hear he’d put on quite the mini-concert.
A moment later a brisk man in a bomber jacket came pelting through the doors.
“HEY EXCUSE ME, M’AM,” he bellowed. “DID A NICE AUSTRIO-HUNGARIAN PAIR COME THROUGH HERE? REAL IMPORTANT. I PROMISE.”
The clerk stared. She was saved from a potentially job-costing decision by the out of breath Englishman who limped through a second after.
“Wasting…time…they just…rounded the corner…at fourth…you are…too fast damn you.”
“Did they? Huh. On it! AND SORRY TO BOTHER YOU, M’AM.” And he barreled out, towing his wheezing companion behind him.
Later, over drinks, her coworkers would hear her story and laugh. “Oh god,” said Robert, from the shift before hers. “Whenever the UN’s in, that room gets all the crazies. You wouldn’t believe who this Japanese guy checked in with LAST year..."
The couple was one of the oddest the clerk had seen in some time, and given this was one of the city’s more discreet hotels, this was saying a lot.
“Oh, Roderich,” the woman was saying. She was one of those chic Europeans who looked somehow glamorous and no-nonsense all at once, if a little out of another time. She wore a short yellow dress and a long dark coat that’d come off her shoulders. It was hard to place her age. “There is nothing wrong with a little activity. We will check in, and then we’ll go to the museum---one of your tables is showing there right now, remember? – but after we should walk a little! It has been so long since I have seen this city!”
“I suppose,” said the man. He was a very elegant sort, with a necktie and a face so pale it might’ve been powdered. He spoke in a deep accent. German, if the clerk had to guess, but that didn’t seem quite right. She had an awful ear. “But it would be unseemly to miss supper, after we have missed lunch…” He paused. “And the meeting, as well.”
At this, the lady pulled a face. “My love, I know you wished to be pampered but let me pamper you, please?”
He scowled, deeply. Perfect, austere lips pinched at the sides. It was a pity he should look so dark, one had a strong impression he’d be even lovelier than her if he would smile. “But…” He sounded a little helpless. It was then that the clerk noticed it was the lady carrying nearly all of their bags. These consisted of a regular large duffel bag, piled on top of a considerably less regular wheeling chest, and a case for some form of instrument. The gentleman carried a slim leather briefcase. “One must think of one’s image...”
And here the woman stood on her toes and murmured something to him in a language the clerk could not quite place. He blinked, and gave a halting response in an entirely different language. German, the clerk decided. The woman with him laughed.
“Let me check us in,” she said. “Only a moment, and I think there’s a piano in the lounge.”
At this, the man’s eyes lit up behind his outdated glasses. He allowed himself to be taken by the arm and gently shepherded in the proper direction, while she handed the bags over and returned to the desk. She combed her long hair over her shoulders in the manner of a woman who’d done her job quite well. There was a flower tucked behind her ear. It seemed real, and quite fresh in spite of the coming chill of fall. She leaned over in quite the conspiratorial way.
“He loves music you see. So fond of his composers! Politics, though…” she wrinkled her nose. "Edelstein-Héderváry, I think it’s under?”
The woman was most gracious, presenting a beaten foreign passport and a business ID when asked. She accepted the cardkeys, and it was then that the clerk noticed the scars on the back of her hands. The clerk said nothing of this, of course. They’d booked one of the nicer honeymoon suites.
“Congratulations,” she said, as a matter of course.
“Thank you!” said the woman—Elisaveta, the ID said her name was—she looked terribly pleased. “Though to tell you the truth, it was actually some time ago…The wars, you know.”
The clerk nodded, unsure of which war she meant. The news was always talking about several at once. The guest looked sad for a moment, but it was only a moment. She placed her scarred hands on her hips. She didn’t seem the sort who ever thought of gloves. “Things are better now, though. We were separated for a time, but now that we aren’t, it seems right to celebrate. Business trip or not.”
Ah. A second honeymoon, then. It all became clear. “We are very happy for you, M’am.” Elisaveta beamed. She chatted a little more, about the nice weather in America and, for some reason, about the condition of those horses that went through the park then fetched her evidently estranged husband from the lounge. She ferried him out the door, arm looped with his. Her pace sharp and still no-nonsense, and his rather sedate. Later, the clerk would hear he’d put on quite the mini-concert.
A moment later a brisk man in a bomber jacket came pelting through the doors.
“HEY EXCUSE ME, M’AM,” he bellowed. “DID A NICE AUSTRIO-HUNGARIAN PAIR COME THROUGH HERE? REAL IMPORTANT. I PROMISE.”
The clerk stared. She was saved from a potentially job-costing decision by the out of breath Englishman who limped through a second after.
“Wasting…time…they just…rounded the corner…at fourth…you are…too fast damn you.”
“Did they? Huh. On it! AND SORRY TO BOTHER YOU, M’AM.” And he barreled out, towing his wheezing companion behind him.
Later, over drinks, her coworkers would hear her story and laugh. “Oh god,” said Robert, from the shift before hers. “Whenever the UN’s in, that room gets all the crazies. You wouldn’t believe who this Japanese guy checked in with LAST year..."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-29 02:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-29 06:29 am (UTC)ljksdflkj okay so not only are you writing Hetalia fic, you are writing my second Hetalia otp. WORDS CAN'T DESCRIBE MY JOY.
(GRATUITOUS AMERICA, FUCK YEAH. ♥)
(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-29 07:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-30 06:29 pm (UTC)translation; YOU WIN MANY INTERNETS.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-30 07:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-01 01:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-01 05:45 am (UTC)I had a Schroder-Austria only icon once lol Glad you like.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-05-11 04:08 am (UTC)Nyaah Austria/Hungary! <3
Darn, I wish I had Austria's music skills... and I started laughing SOO hard at the end :D (Boy, do I wish I knew who it was with Japan...)