It is actually a two-step trip: using the door from Milliways lands the couple at Scarlet's place in San Fancisco, but in the same fraction of a second, she wills herself and Weyland to be somewhere else.
There are actually two, 'mirrored' penthouse apartments at the top of the casino-hotel: Weyland and The Devil get the south side one, with the pool area facing the front of the building.
Their first sight is of a door at the end of a short hallway and past that a small lobby with bead curtains separating it from the spacious, luxurious front room.
In his philosophy, luxury should not be about extravagance but rather about quality--the cheap and flashy does not interest him. But this is a case of something being expensive because it is good, and not simply ostentatious.
"You've already got my interest," he says with a quiet chuckle, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs on the way to the terrace. "And food sounds like an excellent idea--and drinks, lots of drinks. I could use a few less inhibitions tonight, I think."
She takes two steps to the phone, dialing room service: the order is simple, caviar, blintz, champagne of some hideously expensive and extreme-quality kind... while she orders, The Devil is undressing as well.
"Of course, little one," he says, moving to pick up the buckets and glasses and follow her. "I imagine, after that, they will be fighting among themselves for the privilege of bringing any more room service that we might order. Word will get around, if it hasn't already. Good way to inspire excellent service..."
"Either way, fun." She glances back to Weyland grinning. "Eye-candy and generous tips, I am stirring them in two ways."
The trays are carefully set down, and The Devil enters the jacuzzi, shivering at the massaging bubble jets. "Oh, I have to do something nice for the people who make these wonderful things."
"So I noticed," he says with a quiet chuckle, as he sets the buckets and glasses down beside the jacuzzi. "And they are wonderful inventions, that's for sure--bathing in lakes and waterfalls may have its charms, but for relaxation, they have nothing on this."
And a moment later he has a Devil on his lap. She reaches to fill glasses, and will be feeding him blintz and caviar. "Oh, a lot of charm, but in the right occasion. We can go camping sometime, just us and the silence away from civilization."
The Devil kisses Weyland's chin. "I know a nice island in the pacific..."
"As long as it isn't too hot," he murmurs, taking a glass once the drinks are poured, and draping his free arm around her waist. "I'm more of a winter man than a tropical one, it's just what's in my blood. But with you... I suppose I could make an exception."
Their first sight is of a door at the end of a short hallway and past that a small lobby with bead curtains separating it from the spacious, luxurious front room.
One word defines what they see so far: comfort.
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In his philosophy, luxury should not be about extravagance but rather about quality--the cheap and flashy does not interest him. But this is a case of something being expensive because it is good, and not simply ostentatious.
"You come here often, then?" he asks softly.
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Privacy. "And here we are. Alone."
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He takes advantage of the being-alone to untie his tie, as he glances around.
"I tend to go to the same places over and over again. Creature of habit, I suppose."
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She tugs Weyland to the big couch, but then changes mind and guides him to the pool terrace. "I think we should order food and eat in the jacuzzi."
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No, she does not plan to wear a bikini, why?
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He's not exactly shy, either. He undresses slowly, draping his clothes over a chair.
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When the food arrives, she will get the door completely naked, making the busboy gasp and stare...
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"Help me with there, dear?" The Devil smiles to Weyland, picking up two trays. "Bring the ice buckets with the bottles and the glasses?"
She makes her way to the jacuzzi, already enjoying herself by simply being there, sharing the time with Weyland.
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A smile.
"Or fluster them so much that they drop things."
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The trays are carefully set down, and The Devil enters the jacuzzi, shivering at the massaging bubble jets. "Oh, I have to do something nice for the people who make these wonderful things."
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He follows her in, settling in contentedly.
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The Devil kisses Weyland's chin. "I know a nice island in the pacific..."
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