May. 27th, 2010

orbis_non_sufficit: (JB | Strolling)
Bond and the girl had attracted a great deal of strange looks and disdainful stares from the other resort patrons in the lobby. Of course, even Bond had to concede that they had earned them, strolling into the front door of the highest-rated hotel in the ski resort town of Courmayeur looking bedraggled, roughed-up and as though before being through a wringer he and Mia had dressed for more temperate climes. They had, naturally, and the Union Corse kidnappers from whom they had recently escaped had not thought to provide them with warmer clothes.

Still and all, Mia and Bond were relatively unscathed for having exited the small propeller-driven airplane without benefit of parachute. And once the front desk had received confirmation of Bond's Transworld Consortium expense account, their disheveled state became a complete non-issue for the staff. He and Mia were immediately treated with kid gloves and shown to the most lushly-appointed and most secluded private chalet of the hotel.

Locking the door and taking a long minute to stare out of the window to ensure that they need not expect unwelcome visitors any time soon, Bond felt the rush of adrenaline that violence always brought begin to ebb. For a moment, he cursed it as it faded away like a drug addict cursing the end of a high. Forcing back such thoughts, he turned casually toward the opulent living room.

"You're sure you're all right, Mia?"

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James Bond

May 2010

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