Chapter Text
The smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air when they entered the bar. They had just checked into their rooms – small chambers that didn’t really resemble anything you would expect from a hotel. One bed. A table with a chair. A closet. Heavy curtains. One tiny lamp that was flickering in the half-dark. Some warm blankets. That was all.
Though it maybe had to be added that the bed looked like it would collapse every second and the table had obviously been missing a foot because three of the table’s feet were brown and the fourth one black.
They had quickly changed into something a bit more comfortable, which had actually just meant getting rid of one layer of their clothing and had then decided to explore the hotel a bit. Distant chatter had led them to the direction of the bar.
Dim neon lights lit the room to the point of it being half-dark. There seemed to be no ‘real’ lamps with light bubbles, only these strange neon tubes. Maybe, light bubbles wouldn’t have withstood the bitterly cold climate around here, maybe the neon tubes were just more convenient, longer-lasting, or energy-efficient.
As Mobius and Verity entered, all heads turned around to them. Wary glances swept over them, obviously judging them in only the blink of an eye. It was obvious that they didn’t belonging here. But after some seconds, most of the locals turned their heads back to their glasses or their card game they had been interrupted in.
Mobius and Varity sat down at the bar counter, each ordering a glass of whiskey that was served only a few moments later. “Okay, so, umm… sorry to disappoint, but I don’t really see anyone looking like Sylvie here.”
Mobius shrugged, letting his gaze sweep over the other people in the bar – there was one man sitting in a dark corner in the back of the bar, eyes half-closed, from time to time taking a sip from the goblet in front of him on the table.
A young man right next to them, staring at his empty glass with a blank expression on his face. Obviously drunk to the point of most likely not being able to remember the night when he’d wake up the following morning.
A group of old men that was playing cards whilst chattering in Russian. The age and harsh weather had carved deep wrinkles into their faces, their skin dry and leathery, their fingers strong and calloused from hard manual work.
“Are we sure Sylvie chose this place? Because if you ask me, that’s not exactly the place to be if you’re lookin for a holiday”, Mobius whispered, a smile tugging at his lips.
“The coordinates don’t lie, Mobius”, Verity replied equally silent, but couldn’t hide her scepticism either. She felt uncomfortable, as if this place was dangerous, or if she was being watched. As she turned her head to look over her shoulder, she realized she indeed was. A man sitting at the bar was practically staring them down, an untouched glass of whiskey in front of him on the table. As their eyes met, he averted his gaze, just to look up at them again as soon as she turned away a bit again.
As suspicious as that was, Verity relaxed a bit as that man didn’t seem dangerous but just curious and even a little shy. Still, he seemed to take extraordinary interest in their presence, which made her wonder if maybe, by any chance, he’d seen someone like them lately, someone, who had stumbled into a bar and hadn’t fit in.
Someone like Sylvie.