“After all,“ Anne had said to Marilla once, "I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.” ― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea
Prior to their departure from the hotel, Kent’s
first act of business is to Google something on his phone. He won’t let Alexei
see what it is.
“Fuck yes!” Kent exclaims. When he looks up from the
screen, he’s grinning. “Okay, we’ve got some hours to kill. Will you be warm
enough walking around outside in just a shirt and jacket? Even at night? It
gets cold up here.”
Alexei looks down at himself. “I’m Russian.”
“Yeah, and I play ice hockey and grew up in New
York, and I can’t fucking stand the cold. That’s why I’ve got three layers on
and I’m grabbing a jacket before we go.” Kent gets up from his chair. “So?”
Alexei gets up, too. “I’m okay. It’s warm jacket.
Where we go at night?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Kent
goes to his closet to fish out the aforementioned jacket, which he ties around
his waist like it’s 1995. Alexei would chirp him but it’s too fucking cute.
Kent heads for the door but Alexei hangs back,
looking around the room. It was mildly messy when they came in but now it’s
kind of disastrous, with the beds further rumpled from people sitting on their
edges and all the available trashcans filled up with leavings. The delivery
bags have been rolled up and stuffed inside each other, along with the
discarded pie and quiche tins.
“Housekeeping will get it,” Kent says.
Alexei still cringes at the mess, but he goes with
Kent, who checks for his keycard before closing the door behind them.
Outside the hotel, all is quiet. Alexei doesn’t see
anyone with cameras hanging out in wait.
“Probably stalking the Falconers,” Kent says, and
hails a taxi.