Putting on the Ritz

[runningred]

The door opens into a rather expensive hotel room with a view over modern London. Jay pauses a moment to check that his gear is locked away. As he does, a message flashes up on the TV screen with a big red kiss mark.

Have fun tonight, boys!

Jay shakes his head and flips the TV the bird before offering Emcee his arm. "Shall we go down? Our cab should be here soon."

Comments

[i_am_your_host]

At the first mention of the war, Emcee keeps his gaze trained on the streets and buildings, though the pit of his stomach does drop out a little. He can't fathom the destruction, but thankfully, the English stiff upper lip mentality makes up for it. History is what it is. Even if it hasn't happened yet.

"In many ways, Berlin is like London," he muses. "Very old, rich with history, with resilient people. I think that is why everything here feels so familiar even though I am still a stranger. Then again, is anybody really a stranger anymore when one can travel so freely?"

[runningred]

"Ah, Berlin. Never been there myself but my youngest spent a year studying abroad there. Loved it so much we thought we were going to have to mount an air-raid to get her back. Fell in love with your library there and didn't want to leave." He chuckles fondly, pulling the cab up outside the Ritz as a white gloved attendant opens the door for them. "There you go, gentlemen. Have a good night."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee smiles warmly at the cabbie's story. "Hopefully someday she'll return and find it just as she left it."

And then, there's the name in glowing lights: THE RITZ.

They're here. He tries to contain his excitement and remain cool, calm, and demure.

After thanking the cabbie, and stepping out onto the curb (also thanking the attendant), he pops his tophat on his head and steps to the side to wait for Jay.

[runningred]

Jay pauses to pay the cabbie and comes to stand at Emcee's side. He smiles, his own top hat perched as he offers Emcee his arm.

The doors are opened before them by more white gloved attendants who bow as they step into the foyer. Chandeliers glitter above them, sending warm light over smooth marble and polished brass.

The maitre d' sweeps in with a polished smile and offers to take their hats and canes. "The Wayne party?" He enquires, clearly having checked who was expected next. "Your table will just be a moment. May I offer you a refreshment at the bar?" He gestures them towards the equally polished and beautiful bar where champagne cocktails are being prepared.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee takes Jay's arm, and they proceed inside.

And it's breathtaking. Fortunately, Emcee is good at pretending to look like he belongs. The most he expresses is an "Ohh, mein Gott," under his breath, only low enough for Jay to hear.

He only blinks when the maitre d' mentions a name other than Jay's, but well, whatever strings work. After handing over his cane and hat to be checked in, he smiles at Jay and nods at the maitre d'.

"That would be delightful, thank you."

The bar is incredible, and so, so very shiny. And everyone is impeccably dressed, looking almost as polished as the bar.

Emcee wants a ridiculously expensive cocktail. One does not drink at the bar at the Ritz and not get a ridiculously expensive cocktail.

"Jay, darling, what would you recommend?"

[runningred]

Jay shares a private smile with Emcee at his little exclamation and leans against a stool at the bar, looking over the gilded menu. "For you, my darling, a Tuxedo I think." A gin martini made with aged vintage liquors, absinthe and orange bitters. It's a £95 cocktail but Jay doesn't so much as blink at ordering one. "And a Rob Roy for me."

[i_am_your_host]

"Oh, how very appropriate."

Emcee perches on the stool that Jay is leaning on and watches the (hot) bartender make their drink. His eyes widen a bit when he notices the dates on those vintage bottles of liquor, some of them from his time, or even older. He wants to laugh out loud, it's so absurd.

He also wants to crack jokes about Rob Roy's huge Claymore, but he's still keeping up the illusion of being refined.

Soon, though.

By his deepening dimples, he's pretty sure Jay can tell he's biting his tongue.

[runningred]

Jay returns his look with a cheeky smile of his own. He's no mind reader but he can see a dirty thought lingering on the tip of Emcee's tongue.

He raises his glass to Emcee, chunking them lightly. "To living the good life." He toasts, sipping appreciatively. "Oh, this is good!"