Gutt nacht



Keywords: gutt nacht
Description: The room was actually small, but the arrangement of the furniture made it feel quite spacious. All of anyone's basic needs were met, which was more than the man had a few days prior to renting it (days on trains and the back of trucks did not do him well). There was a bed, a table, a wash station, and other basic toiletries. Unfortunately, there was no shower or bathtub, but at the least he co...

The room was actually small, but the arrangement of the furniture made it feel quite spacious. All of anyone's basic needs were met, which was more than the man had a few days prior to renting it (days on trains and the back of trucks did not do him well). There was a bed, a table, a wash station, and other basic toiletries. Unfortunately, there was no shower or bathtub, but at the least he could use the wash basin for a sponge bath.

Ludwig loosened his tie, breathing out a single sigh as he left his briefcase on the table. The bed was a bit too soft for his liking, he discovered once he sat upon it, but the thick woolen blanket would keep him warm enough. He reached over a hand to press into the pillows. A previous day, he may have complained that the pillows weren't firm enough, but he was just thankful to have pillows at the moment.

He just took a second to breath and look at the facts as he undressed for some rest. He had a job to do, that was a given. He wasn't sure on the specifics, but he had to contact a certain someone about a certain something. (His brother would be contacting him about it so there was. a little less worry.) His job would only start on a later date. He knew that he'd arrived in this city earlier than expected.

Ludwig ran a hand through his hair, just the unwind. Rarely did he have time to be wasted, but he didn't have the energy at the moment to care. He may have gone sightseeing if his time here in this strange country permitted it, but the sun was soon to set and he would like a proper night's sleep.

Making a plan for anything made it simpler; Ludwig would often plan for events and even entire weeks ahead of schedule. He could make a plan for the day in the morning since he was unsure when he would awake, but for the time being he could figure what to do for the time before falling asleep. A bath would be nice, but the most he could manage would be a sponge bath. A meal would be nice, but he wasn't sure exactly where to acquire such a pleasantry. He couldn't even go to a restaurant or market due to his rudimentary Italian making it hard enough to confirm a hotel room.

Ludwig cleared his throat, nodding to himself. That was a plan of attack for the immediate time being. Acquiring a meal was a normal, pattern-inducing task. Even if he was not in Italy long enough for the task to become habit - he was hoping he wouldn't - it was just to be a little something to get a hold of things once more as it seemed nothing on the trip had gone right so far.

He stood up, reaching for his jacket and tie once more before realizing he'd spent the last of his currency on the room. (The language barrier would have been difficult, too, but he was a determined one.) He had taken extra money for any purpose, but it turned out that all he was able to spend it on was accidents: stolen tickers, replacement clothing when his luggage was lost, a room when his reservation had been cancelled beneath his feet. The man didn't believe in luck and apparently luck didn't believe in the man either.

Ludwig took a deep breath, sinking back to the mattress and laying his jacket over his pillow alongside the tie. It was almost so pitiful he could laugh. Here he was, a German, in the middle of Italy with no money. He only had this room for a day. He couldn't find a place to have a meal, let alone buy one. His Italian was crude due to incorrect books. To make matter worse, he was supposed to meet someone but didn't know whom or where.

As much as he liked looking at facts, Ludwig often overlooked some. He wouldn't be cold that night. The climate of Italy was nice enough that he may not even need to untuck the blanket of the bed. He may have been broke, but there were places he could go in the area for free (It wasn't a fact he knew, but it was a fact nonetheless). There was the possibility that his rendezvous had been cancelled due to the other party being lost as well. He may even be in the wrong city altogether. Also, there was food in the room that he'd seemed to have forgotten about.

He sighed, long and silent. There was no way around this particular errand. He was chosen for it, and he would get it done. in theory. Funny how theories and actualities are quite different. "Get in and get out. Easy enough, right?" He repeated the words his brother had spoken before his departure. Those were easy enough for the egotistical and outrageously confident Gilbert to utter, but it wasn't uncommon for his words to fall flat.

The blonde closed his eyes, tapping his fingers over his forehead since he had nothing else to do. That's when a little whiff of something sweet invaded the man's nostrils: berrylike with a hint of sugar. He looked over to the desk, staring at the pastry atop the napkin that strange Italian had forced upon him.

He'd never had a dessert for dinner and starting now wasn't exactly appealing to him. Yet, getting something in his stomach was better than going without since lunch the previous day. So, he left the thought of going out on the town as he pulled himself to his feet and walked over to the desk.

His large hands reached forward, one pulling on the napkin beneath the treat and one waiting to catch the thing in his palm. He had no silverware, so he did have to eat it with merely his hands. His stomach was churning slightly as he stepped back to the bed and sat once more. The pastry looked nicely prepared and smelled delightful, but there was just something off about it that made Ludwig uneasy. The boy, Feli-something (Italian names were somewhat hard to remember), had just been handing them out. So they either tasted terrible or he'd made them late in the day when there were presumably less customers. Though, it was difficult to immediately conclude the pastries were terrible. The baker had managed to sell off his bread, so that was a good sign. Besides, he seemed an adequate enough baker even if his demeanor was ditzy.

If Gilbert was there, he would have chided his younger brother. "Afraid of something, Lud?" He would have laughed. Fortunately, fate had decided the two would be alone for some time, and the time was undetermined thanks to variables that were unknown to both siblings.

Ludwig studied the pastry for a moment. It had been in the bottom of the box, but it was still fairly attractive despite being smushed. It had an interesting shape to it as well: two isosceles triangles wither their vertexes touching the longest side of each other. It reminded him vaguely of a crushed box. There were slight bits of strawberry filling oozing out of the sides where the seams had been pushed open and the powdered sugar hastily sprinkled atop the item had somewhat brushed off. The presentation of the treat was not uniform, not perfect. The blonde may have confessed that it irked him.

There came a little nagging thought of what Gilbert would do if he saw his brother take so long to eat something. (Gilbert had a habit of doing a lot of things quickly.) Unpleased by this imagining, Ludwig manned up and took a bite of the treat.

By no means was it completely unpalatable. No, that wasn't it. It was indeed very good, but - like the boy who'd made it - it was different. Ludwig wasn't. The taste of the strawberry and powder was fluffy for lack of a better term. It blended almost with the crisped dough to have a very alien taste to it. It wasn't so strong of a taste, but somehow it was too sweet. A little. a little.

Ludwig didn't hate it. He just guessed that it would take an acquired taste to fully appreciate the fare. Maybe it was an Italian thing. (He really didn't understand them.) He threw away the rest of the pastry, in any case.

The man eased a sigh as he finally slipped into the bed, turning onto his side and closing his eyes. He had a plan for the day after the one which would follow. but no plans for the day succeeding. Maybe he should brush up on his Italian. If it save him the strange looks, he'd do just about anything.






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