Participants:
| Scene Title | Always Have Prague |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | To escape potential death, Kam and Savannah vacation in Prague for Christmas Eve. |
| Date | December 24, 2010 |
Prague, Czech Republic
It is so thoroughly proper that, come this Christmas Eve, as a Czech cab speeds along Nerudova street, the great domed shape of the Church of none other than Saint Nicholas rears up in the left hand window, in full view the travelers. Savannah Burton and Kamber Abbot are far, far away from the brewing -if ultimately averted - disaster at d'Sarthe's. They are in Prague, and they are headed to their hotel. Historic and both grand and quaint in a way that only the mingling of Europe can produce, the Hotel At The Golden Wheel sits in view of the majestic Castle itself.
As the cab slows to a stop, pulling over to the side of the road, Kam quickly sorts out, as best he can, what he owes the taxi driver. His Czech is non-existent, his German not much better, but Euros are Euros and when he forks over enough, the cabby opens the door for them and then goes around to lend a hand with the luggage. The doorman, seeing potential guests, contacts the bellboy, and soon a small host of help are seeing to the comfort of the couple, leaving Kam with the simple task of helping Savannah up onto the curb. Which he performs, happily.
"My lady," Kam says, grandly, "the city awaits your visitation."
Savannah was nervous, at first, simply by the proximity of the day of her supposed death. Still, there were no bombs and her fingers twined with Kam's as much as possible reassured her that she was alright. The cab found her eyes pressed to the window as she stared at everything that passed like a child in a candy store. The smile that managed to creep up on her face didn't leave it, not even when they'd arrived at their destination. Stepping up onto the curb, hand in Kam's, she stares around. "This is the best idea you've had in a long time. Not that you aren't full of brilliant ideas, but this is exceptionally brilliant."
"I know, I know," Kam says, with affected lightness, "this is one of my master strokes." He sets a kiss to her cheek once she joins him on the curb. The hotel swarm are already ushering them through the doors, out of the winter chill, maybe not as stark as that in New York, but still pretty biting. The check in process is mostly painless, the clerk speaking good if accented English. Their key is an honest to God key, though they are told that a safe has been provided for their valuables. The elevator is quite wonderfully tiny and treacherous sounding upon ascent, and when they reach their room, their luggage is waiting for them. The very picture of Old World convenience.
"Do we have to leave?" Kam inquires of Savannah, plaintively, as he slips the key into the lock.
The author is happy to be out of the cold, and her face is overflowing with smiles when she sees the elevator and all it's old charm. She can't hide the smiles as she looks at the door, key and all. "I love the fancy hotels in New York with the key slide things and all but… this… this has character." She looks back to Kam, then offers him yet another golden ray of pleasure from the upward curve of her lips. "Your lease isn't up on the place, Kam. And besides, don't you have an office they'd be missing you at? Besides, we don't have to leave yet. We just got here."
"Yes, yes, but maybe I was meant to be an expatriate," Kam says, pushing the door open and starting to bring the luggage into the room, "a real one. I was raised almost exclusively in the States, you know. What if the reason I never unlocked my true potential was because I was bound to my home soil? What if I was meant for coffee and post-Soviet grandeur?"
"Careful, I hear European men are attracted to American women. They claim, for some insane reason, that we have accents," Savannah says, moving to help a bit with the luggage as she steps into the room. "I'll have to be careful of all these men falling in love with me, hmm?" There's a playful teasing in it, and she reaches a hand up to brush across his cheek. "If you get your 'true potential' unlocked from this trip, then it's well-worth it. Although it's hard to improve upon perfection." She teases.
"Come now, I'm European," Kam protests, "I bloody well better be with a name like Kamber and… oh…" he pauses, "I suppose I'm just confirming your hypothesis, aren't I? Damnation!" He looks about the room, a little baroque, though in the Victorian sense, rather than actually Baroque. His face turns, though, at her touch, and he takes Savannah by the waist, "I suppose I should be content with the perfection I have," he says, turning the compliment back around on her, the jujitsu of affection.
Savannah raises an eyebrow. "A warped sense of perfection you have." She chuckles. "You are delusional, it seems." She does laugh, taking in the room briefly before fixing her vision on her traveling companion. "But I won't deny the attraction of European men. It does work the other way around, too. But do not worry, my affections are firmly fixed on you."
"Such warping is the proper province of the lovestruck," Kam contends, leaning in to kiss Savannah on the lips, "and love lacking madness hardly qualifies as love, now does it?" he lifts a hand to Savannah's chin, thumb brushing against its point, "this is really a chance for us to secure our affections in more durable memory. It'll be like Casablanca. They'll always have Paris. We'll always have Prague."
The blonde's lips curve into a smile, tilting her chin downward to press a kiss to his thumb as it lingers near her face. "Ah, but you see," Savannah points out. "That would mean one of us is leaving. And since I would certainly never give you up, that means you're running off to go get married to some other woman." She looks at him seriously. "If you leave me, she'd better be worth it!"
"If the analogy holds… then whatever woman I'm going off with is going to end World War II," Kam says, giving Savannah a level look, "I think that's pretty worthwhile don't you? But, again, if the analogy holds, you're Humphrey Bogart. And I don't think I could say no to him. Or you, by extension."
"Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, you walk into mine," Savannah grins, suddenly wrapping her arms around him. "At least if you leave me, I'll have a bar to drown my sorrows in. I'd prefer it if you didn't say no so I could dramatically kiss you like no woman has ever kissed a man before. Better than in the movies. And they always get those kisses right in those movies. So perfect…"
"I think, in the movies, it's all fantasy. They could kiss badly and you'd never know, you'd be caught in the emotion," Kam says, ever the skeptic (unless he decides not to be), "with a real kiss, all that's there… but there's still the kiss." His brows loft just a little. "I think we've just conjured the setting. Which leaves us missing just that.. the kiss."
"Do you think we're properly caught up in the emotion and the moment, Kam?" Savannah questions, the grin still plastered on her face. "And am I supposed to sweep you off your feet? I am Humphrey Bogart, after all. And he certainly does the sweeping."
"One moment…" Kam says, removing a hand from her to unbutton the top button of his shirt. There. Much more romantic. "There. Sweep away, my Bogey."
There's a tiny laugh from Savannah, only because she can't help it. She keeps her arms tight around him and leans him back, just slightly. After all, she's not wanting to drop him, but she wants to make the kiss dramatic. "I do recall Ilsa saying something about kissing as if it were the last time…" She leans in, pressing her lips to his, deeply and passionately. She draws on all the memories of being giddy talking to Kam on the phone while she was in California, the way she felt the first time they kissed, and even how she felt simply being off on vacation with him. She kisses him as deeply as she can muster, simply because everyone deserves to be kissed like that once in their lives.