Before Sunrise...(Open to 1F)

OOC:
Name - Liam Samuels
Age - 24
Height - 5'11"

Liam is a graduate student in Philosophy, who during his final semester of study, escaped the hustle and bustle of New York City to travel the lesser-known corners of Europe. He has one final day in Europe before returning home and he is hoping to make the most of it.

IC:
Liam stared out of the window, the Austrian countryside speeding by. Mountains, rivers, and valleys were stretching out towards the horizon, occasionally blocking it. Small towns dotted the green hills, peaceful hamlets that had provided him a respite from his life at home. The sun was cresting over a mountaintop, shining into his eyes and warming his spirit. Liam wanted to take it all in so that he could retreat into his memory of this place when the responsibilities of life set back in.

He could feel the power of the train rumbling beneath him, lightly shaking him from side-to-side as the rails ran beneath his feet. Moving a tuft of his shoulder length brown hair away from his eyes, he glanced around the cabin. It was only 8am and most of the other passengers were still asleep. A car attendant was lazily passing out cups of fresh coffee to those who were awake. The old man she was currently serving seemed particularly demanding and Liam laughed to himself as the old man shouted words in German that he knew couldn't be good. The coffee did smell good though.

Closing his eyes, Liam continued to listen to the old man until his voice muted and he felt a tap on his shoulder. "Excuse me, sir," said the attendant with a thick Austrian accent, "Would you enjoy a coffee?"

Liam blinked a few times before nodding, "Sure...sure." He pulled out the table on the seat in front of him and the attendant poured the coffee into a dainty plaster mug. The smoke billowed up from the hot water as the attendant moved further down the cabin. Liam took a glance at her rear as she walked, her clinging uniform perfectly highlighting its form. He smiled, closing his eyes to imagine her hips swaying.

The tranquility of the moment was quickly shattered as a conversation between two passengers directly in front of him began to heighten. They were obviously a couple, middle-aged and tired of one another, bickering in Italian - a language that Liam did not understand. Liam heard a slap as the woman's hand glanced the man's cheek. Maybe he was caught looking at the attendant as well. The whole exchange was completely entertaining.

Liam glanced over to the set of seats directly across from him as he heard a giggle. There he saw her...

OOC
Grace Lambert
25 years old
5'7" - 34C
Brown eyes
Medium length brown curly hair

Grace had entertained herself by observing the married couple for most of the previous evening. She knew enough Italian to know they were on holiday, but they had not, as of yet, enjoyed one moment of each others company. This morning, when the husband let his eyes linger on the train attendant's assets a moment too long, the wife had let him have it.

"Porco schifoso!" the woman hissed as she slapped her unsuspecting husband.

Grace giggled out loud. The woman shot her a glance that said fatti gli affari tuoi, or "mind your own business."

She ducked her eyes then looked out the window. The sun was burning off the haze of early dawn. This trip had been almost all she hoped it would be. The only thing missing was Karl. They had planned this trip for almost a year, then, out of the blue, two weeks before their departure date, he had dumped her. No better way to put it. He had called her and told her he couldn't go through with the trip, it would be too much.

"Too much what?" she had asked, fighting the urge to either punch him in the gut or throw her arms around his ankles and refuse to let go.

She settled somewhere between. She told him she would get up and walk away quietly, if he would let her have their train tickets. He had gladly given her his tickets in return for her not throwing a fit there in the coffee shop, and she had been able to cash them in for a partial refund. In reality, the extra money had been a much nicer travel companion that Karl ever would have been. She didn't think she would be able to enjoy traveling alone, but it had awakened a spirit of adventure she didn't know she possessed. She was glad to be going home to her family and friends, but she was a little sad, too, that her holiday was nearing its end.

Grace noticed the young man across from her was awake and seemed to be following the antics of the same couple she was watching. She raised her coffee cup in a toasting gesture and smiled at him.

"Buon giorno," she said.

She was exquisite, a natural beauty as great as the view outside of his window. He could hardly keep from staring, but Liam turned back to watch the couple. He didn't want to come across as the lazy American fantasizing about European women. In fact, he had barely been able to think about women during the trip. The wounds were too fresh. He had been hoping to escape attraction, to focus on his own problems, to be selfish for once in his life.

But he couldn't get the girl across the aisle out of his mind. Liam glanced over once more, surprised to meet her gaze. She was holding her coffee cup in the form of a toast, a welcoming smile on her gorgeous face. "Buon giorno," she said.

Liam stumbled over his words. "Oh...Hi...I mean," he searched his mind for the right words. "Buon giorno," he replied in rough Italian. He raised his mug in the air, taking a swig of the fresh coffee. It invigorated him. "Parla inglese? Non parlo l'italiano."

He hoped desperately that she spoke English, otherwise this conversation was going to be over rather quickly.

Grace was smitten instantly by his shy smile. Why couldn't she have met him in Rome? she thought to herself. He looked like someone who might have enjoyed the museums and cafes, shared her delight in the ambiance of the old world city. His hair was long enough to hint at an artistic nature, or at the very least, a free spirit. She could almost see him sitting across from her at an outdoor cafe, watching the people, imagining their stories together as they basked in the erotic undertones of their vibrant surroundings.

He didn't appear to have a traveling companion; perhaps he would appreciate some company? Grace had never been extremely comfortable approaching men. She preferred to flirt from afar and let them decide whether or not to take things further, or closer, which ever the case may be. But she was feeling adventurous still, and didn't want to let an opportunity for something, or someone, slip away. She wanted to take home a memory to make this trip stand out in her mind for a long time. She didn't want it to be the trip I took after Karl dumped me. She wanted it to be something completely different.

"No worries, I believe I am familiar with your mother tongue?" she replied in English.

Liam smiled, relieved. "I know, I know - I must come across as the ugly American who never bothered to learn any other languages." He leaned into his arm rest, rolling his eyes at himself. "I'm hardly fighting the stereotype, but I did take four years of French in high school. I think I remember one phrase..." he paused. "Où est la bibliothèque? Pretty bad, huh?"

He lost himself in thought for a moment. He wanted to impress her, but was coming across sarcastic and self-deprecating. It was a personality trait that he had been trying to rid himself of for years. The sun mingled through her curly brown hair, illuminating her face. It was a face that could make him forget all of his problems. And for a moment he stared at her, words failing him.

Liam didn't want to blow it. The girl across the aisle looked as lost as he was. It was as if she had been running from something, a restless bohemian traipsing about Europe with no money and no plans. For a moment, he imagined what it would have been like to share his journey with a woman like her: touring the hallways of the Peles Castle in Romania, standing in the ruins of the Parthenon in Greece, or simply reading books in a park on the Seine. Strangely, he began miss moments in time that had never occurred.

Before Liam's eyes could linger for too long, the loud conversation between the couple in front of his seat seemed to jump by fifty decibels. This wasn't about a look anymore, this was the result of years of pent up frustration. The woman shot out of her seat, pointing her finger in her husbands' face, shouting in Italian. The man stood in response, trying - unsuccessfully to intimidate her. At this point, they were waking up most of the passengers. The woman slapped at his hand multiple times, before darting off down the cabin. The man quickly pursued her, carrying both of their luggage in tow.

"Do you have any idea what they were saying?" he asked the stranger. "It seemed pretty intense."

Ah, another American. Grace had lived abroad most of her life, due to her father's military career, but home was in the states. She was taking one last trip around Europe before she headed home to find a job, or what ever it was she was going to do. Karl was supposed to be part of these plans. She had no idea what she was going to do without him. That was no reason not to enjoy some conversation, perhaps even flirtation, with the man across from her. The man with the delightfully warm smile and poor grasp of the French language. It was a charming mix.

The Italian couple was making quite a scene as they exited the cabin, headed to the dining car. The man bumped into every passenger on the way out, so if anyone had been sleeping, they weren't now. Grace watched them disappear through the door, then turned to her new friend and smiled at his question.

"I could tell you what they were saying, but I think it might dissuade you from ever pursuing romance," she said.

Was that too much? It has been a few years since she flirted with a stranger. She didn't want to scare him off with talk of love affairs. In fact, she found herself wanting to get to know him better. Was it the lost look in his eyes? His self-deprecating manner? She didn't want to come on too strong, but she wanted to spend some time with him. He reminded her of home. She summoned up her courage and decided to act. This could be the best part of the entire trip.

"You know, we could follow them to the dining car and see what happens with the rest of this story," she suggested. "If nothing else, we can get a refill on our coffee?"

Liam was surprised to hear her clear American accent. He was used to being the only person from stateside in the small towns he had been visiting. He had wanted the authentic experience and while he was dreading returning home, her voice was familiar and soothing, a cure for the tumult of his mind.

"There is very little that could dissuade me from pursuing romance," he replied with a grin. "Although, I must say that this continent has made a good argument for doing as such. It's nice to see a friendly face, though." Liam stared into her brown eyes, scanning her perfect features. They were on exact opposite sides of the train - two seats and an aisle between them, but he felt as if he was sitting right next to her.

"You know, we could follow them to the dining car and see what happens with the rest of this story," she suggested. "If nothing else, we can get a refill on our coffee?"

He took one last swig of his coffee. "I could definitely use some more coffee."

Liam stood up and grabbed his backpack from underneath his seat. He gestured for the young woman to go first towards the dining car and followed behind her. "You know, you almost fooled me. You've got a European air to you. I wasn't expecting you to be an American. Where are you from?"

Home was a foreign concept to Grace. According to her passport, home was Austin, Texas, "that filthy little dirt hole," as her mother called it, but she had never spent more than a few months at a time there. The bag she carried on her shoulder was more home than anything or anyplace had ever been. She had a few school friends she kept in touch with, but being transient didn't lend itself to close friendships. She wasn't really attached to anyone but her family now, and even they weren't very close. Karl had been her main support and best friend. She wasn't exactly alone in the world, but she felt that way.

She spotted an empty booth, across from the arguing couple. Good, they could watch the show if their conversation didn't carry. Grace found herself a little more than hopeful that would not be the case. He had some baggage; she had seen it around his eyes, heard it in his voice. Perhaps hearing someone else tell their story would lessen the pain she still felt from hers. If not, the distraction provided by a friendly American was welcome enough relief for now.

"Oh, I've probably spent as much time in Europe as the States, if not more," she told him as she sat in the seat facing him. "It was great for preventing me from developing that awful Texas twang," she said, with an exaggerated drawl.

She hoped she hadn't offended him with her crack about Texas. He could be displaced like she was, but in love with his home state. Most Texans she knew tended to be that way, no matter how long they had lived there. It was something she didn't get; that blind allegiance to a piece of ground. Home was supposed to where the heart lives, wasn't it? Germany had been home until just a few months ago. Making America home was going to be a challenge. Her heart just wasn't in it. She wasn't sure where it was, to be honest.

"Now tell me a little about you?" she smiled and reached across the table to touch his hand.

She hoped she wasn't being too bold, but she knew time was of essence. She felt a spark, a connection, and she didn't want to let the chance to feel the fire go by. Even if it was just a vacation fling, she had a feeling it would be worthwhile to find out.

Liam watched her hips sway as they moved towards the dining car. She had a confident stride, even if her momentary glances did contain a bit of leftover sorrow. He knew the feeling, but he was determined to make the most of the time he had with her - without bringing up old wounds or dwelling on them. The beautiful stranger with the curly brown hair seemed to be just the prescription: one last European adventure.

As they approached the dining car, the smell of breakfast washed over them. Liam noticed a booth in the back corner, directly across from the bickering Italian couple. The man seemed to be grovelling to the woman, apologizing for whatever discretion he had made. She didn't seem to be particularly interested in his response, even if he was making a fool of himself in front of the entire dining car.

"Oh, I've probably spent as much time in Europe as the States, if not more," she told him as she sat in the seat facing him. "It was great for preventing me from developing that awful Texas twang," she said, with an exaggerated drawl.

Liam nudged himself into the booth, placing his bag on the seat near the window. It was the only luggage he had brought with him, containing a camera, some spare clothes and his notebook.

He had spent a few years of his childhood in Texas, just north of Austin, but those days were mostly forgotten. Most of his life had been lived in Brooklyn, New York. His single mother, an English Professor at Cornell University, had moved him there at any early age as an opportunity to be a part of one of "cultural centers of the world". She had been determined to give him the best education possible.

Liam surprised as the young woman reached across the table to touch his hand. It was electric and his eyes shot up to meet hers. "Now tell me a little about you?" She smiled and he was drawn in. He wanted to tell her his whole life story, to confess what had happened in the last few weeks, but he calmed himself, squeezing her hand just a bit.

"Not much to tell really. I'm certainly not as exciting as someone as well-traveled as you," he replied. "And I'm certainly not adverse to a bit of a drawl. It adds a little character to the voice. But I happen to like yours just fine."

He chuckled a bit under his breath, with equal charm and anxiety. Liam wanted desperately to impress her. She was still waiting for a response to her question. "This is my first time in Europe. The tail end of my trip actually. I'm technically supposed to be finishing my graduate thesis in philosophy, but I took a bit of a detour and ended up in Budapest."

As he continued to speak, a finely-dressed waiter placed a plate with several croissants in the center of the table, breaking Liam's grip on her hand. Liam did a slight Bogart impression, "What brings a woman like you to a place like this?" He was smiling more than he had the entire trip. "Going anywhere in particular?"

"Detours can lead to all sorts of adventures, can't they?" Grace asked with a smile.

"Budapest is one of my favorite cities. It's so full of the true flavor of old Europe, without the snootiness of the French and Italian tourist traps, I think, anyway," she said as she reached for a croissant.

She picked idly at the flaky pastry on the plate in front of her, absentmindedly licking some butter from her fingers as she considered how deep to let him in to her story. Should she tell him why she was alone? Headed back to a place that was home in name only?

Graduate thesis in philosophy. Not surprising at all. He had the demeanor of someone who understood life was more about art than science. All the scientific theories in the world couldn't explain why two people, seemingly perfect for each other in every way, could drift in the short space of an hour. But an artist could; a writer could describe it in a million words, a painter in a palate of blues and greys, a singer in a soulful refrain.

"I'm making one last tour, before I head to the States," she said.

That answered his question with as little detail as possible. Once she hit Texas, she would be starting over. She didn't want him to know she was clueless as to where she was going. There was nothing sexy about indecision.

His smile was so warm and genuine. If only she had more time with him, she thought. Time to decipher the look in his eyes. Anticipation? No, that wasn't it. It was hunger. For what? The same things she craved: companionship, appreciation, respect? Was it possible to get those things from a stranger on a train? When she looked in his eyes, she thought maybe it was. Temporary fulfillment, certainly, but wasn't a temporary fix better than no fix at all?

This woman intriguing. She was purposefully vague, trying to create an air of mystery around herself. It was charming and Liam understood that he was a complete strange, but he wanted to crack her shell. There seemed to be a lot going on behind those eyes. "I hate that people regiment their travels so much, you know?" His detour had been equal parts a success and a failure. "They hear about all of these amazing places in Europe, but they only learn about the cultural exports. They don't spend any real time learning the culture. You know, I don't think I've done traditional sightseeing the entire time I've been here? I got a Eurail Pass and I've just been taking it to the next station for three weeks."

He smiled, "It's been enlightening."

Liam reached down and grabbed a croissant, crumbs falling into the light scruff on his face. He laughed at his own clumsiness, wiping it off with his forearm. "It's too bad we just met. I'm headed to Vienna to catch a flight tomorrow morning. If I had a little more money, I would probably join you on your last tour."

The waiter appeared again with a pot of coffee and poured it into their respective mugs. Liam took a swig, staring out the moment before locking eyes with her again. "So I know that you're from the states, specifically Texas...and I know that you're touring Europe...and I know that you have beautiful curly hair," he hoped he wasn't being too forward, "but what else is there to know? You seem like quite the quandary."

Grace fought the urge to reach across the table and wipe the crumbs away from face. She could almost feel the short hairs of his shadowy stubble against her fingertips. She was relieved when he brushed his forearm across his face. Another second or two, and she would not have been able to fight that reflexive move. A move much too familiar for a stranger.

She blushed in response to his comment about her hair, but that was the only response she gave. Accepting compliments was not her forte. Not that she didn't appreciate them, she just didn't know what to say. She was glad he had provided her with an out by stacking his questions.

"What else is there to know?" Grace asked out loud.

This left the door wide open to discuss anything. Education? Nothing interesting there. She attended American schools all over Europe, with only a few semesters spent in America. She wasn't sure what she wanted to study, or if she even wanted to pursue a degree. It was what was expected of her, and she didn't have a better plan at the moment. Money would be available as long as she was being proactive, so it was going to be an escape, if nothing else, for awhile. There were worse ways to stay alive.

Family? They really weren't all that interesting. Every American in Europe was here for some sort of military assignment, it seemed. Her dad was a high ranking officer, very formal, and didn't share his thoughts or emotions. Her mother met her needs through various past times and addictions. Vodka had been her best friend for some time, which didn't leave a lot of time to child rearing. Grace and her brother had grown up taking care of themselves from a young age, which had given them a strong sense of independence, but left Grace feeling a little cold. Karl was the first person to bring her any warmth. She didn't want to talk about Karl, though.

He had used the word quandary to describe her. How did he discern this, from the little bit she had shared? Was it possible he could see her broken heart lurking beneath her smile? She was working so hard to keep that under wraps. Nothing like a mourning lover to put a wet blanket on a perfectly pleasant encounter, but something in his eyes said go ahead, tell me anything, I might not be able to fix things, but I promise not to make them worse.

"I was supposed to be on this trip with a....a friend, This is my first time to travel alone. I almost didn't come, but now I'm glad I did," she smiled across the table, then glanced out the window.

The passing countryside was no match for his eyes, though, and she found herself meeting his gaze, hoping she hadn't said too much. That's when she got an idea.

Grace was departing from Vienna too, but she had 48 hours there before her flight left. She had booked an extra day to attend one night of Vienna Blues Spring; the annual six week music festival. She and Karl had attend the previous year and had such an incredible time. When she knew she would be in Vienna alone, she had almost decided to sell the tickets. They were still tucked away in her bag. Her hotel was booked, too, and it didn't matter how many people were in the room. She knew plane tickets could be rescheduled. Opportunities missed were almost always regretted. One more look across the table, and Grace made the decision to go for it. If he said no, they could say goodbye at the next stop. But if he said yes?

"I'll make a deal with you, she said. Stay a night in Vienna with me, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

There, she had said it. It was out there. What would the answer be?

Liam was surprised at her frankness. She still came across as the quiet-type, lost in her own mind and trying to find a way out. It was something that he was all too familiar with: the over-analysis of everyday life. Liam had been thinking about human behavior for as long as he could remember. He was known to psychoanalyze his closest friends without warning and it was the primary cause of most of his failed relationships. He owned dozens of journals that were used to work out his thoughts about love, life, death, friendship, rebellion, consciousness and just about every other topic that had plagued mankind since its inception.

This trip was supposed to have opened up his emotions. Liam was growing tired of his left-brain and he thought that the ancient history of Europe might provide the appropriate stimulus to the right-half. He was far more interested in poetry than in philosophy at the moment; more Aristophanes than Aristotle. But the journey had been an unsatisfactory one. He was more in his head than ever before.

However, this woman had managed to keep his mind in the moment. Exactly where he had always wished it to be.

"You know, it seems like you and I both have some bad friends," he replied. "I was supposed to meet someone in Budapest but she...I mean...they didn't particularly want me there." He couldn't believe that he had let his tongue slip. "I guess it would've been better if we would've met earlier. We could have kept each other company."

Liam smiled. This was what he had been waiting for: a beautiful woman with an interesting mind and a mysterious demeanor. He couldn't tear himself away from her eyes.

"...but to answer your question," he paused momentarily, "I'm sure I can arrange for an extra day. I'll just have to call the airline. I won't miss anything other than the professor handing out the syllabus anyway." He laughed a bit as he drank the last bit of coffee. "You know, what's funny? I was going to ask you to get off the train in Vienna with me. But I thought you'd say 'No' to a complete stranger."

"I didn't really have any plans and I don't have much money, so I was just going to walk around the streets until tomorrow morning, take in the rarely seen sights, get a feeling for what its like to live here. I'd love to have your company."

So, he was nursing some heartache, too. Misery loves company, she thought. The funny thing was that she didn't feel miserable now. Most of this trip she had felt alone. Liam's company had almost completely erased the grey undertones and replaced them with some brightness. If nothing else, she was certain she was going to make this a night to remember. She was so glad she had kept the festival tickets.

The Italian couple had stopped bickering, finally. The wife had even let her husband put a hand across the table, and she touched him from time to time when she talked.

"Lei sarà sempre la mia orchidea," he said when she looked at him.

The woman's smile was warm, and she blushed when her husband touched her cheek. To feel the passion these two obviously had for each other was all Grace wanted. Passion, desire, need; expressed and returned in equal measure. These two obviously shared all that, and maybe more. It was hard not to be envious.

Grace looked across the table at Liam. He had said he was going to ask her to spend some time in Vienna with him before she had asked. That hinted at an attraction, for sure. Complete stranger? Perhaps, but she felt somehow, that she had known him her whole life. He was an old soul, lost in this crazy world, trying to find his way to the light. How did Grace know? Because she was, too. Kindred spirits were scarce. Moments shared with someone who understands are worth what ever happens when time runs out. There could be many opportunities for those moments to happen in 48 hours.

Money was no obstacle. Her room was paid for upfront, as were the festival tickets. Grace knew lots of good places to get a bite to eat that would leave them both satisfied for very little. Then, they could walk the darkened side streets, peek in the windows of the locals who would be settling in for the night. This was the kind of sightseeing Grace liked best. It made her feel connected to the world around her.

"I'm glad you said yes," Grace said. "No one should have to spend their last night in Europe alone."

Silence fell between the new friends as they each looked over to the Italian couple, whom had gone from raging argument to passionate embrace in mere moments. There was love in each of their eyes, the kind of love that could only come from spending most of their lives together. It was the first redeeming sight that Liam had seen all trip. It had been hard to believe in romance or love...or even lust for most of his time in Europe, but this show of absolute forgiveness was a gleaming light close to the end.

Liam had noticed that most lasting relationships weren't really dependent on trust or admiration or love, but forgiveness. Human beings were frail of heart and mind, they made constant mistakes - and without the forgiveness of their loved ones, they were always doomed to fail. He could admit that he wasn't always the most merciful with those who had wronged him, but the show of affection from this Italian couple taught him new things about himself.

He turned back to the beautiful woman across from him. His peripheral vision could see the landscape change on the side of the dining car - into a more urban setting. They were no doubt approaching the Vienna Train Station. "You're right and I can't think of anybody else that I'd rather spend time with," he smiled genuinely. "I'm just glad that you're the one who asked. I thought it was a crazy idea when it popped in my mind. But I guess we should think of it like this: what if in twenty years, we're married, we have children, but we're miserable. We'll always look back on the next few days and think - what if I would've have gotten the train?"

"This is kind of like time travel, right? We can think of it that way. We're our future selves experimenting with our own pasts...so we don't have to wonder, what it?"

Liam could feel the train slowing beneath them. "Maybe we should go back to the cabin and get your luggage. I'd be happy to help you carry it." He reached back and grabbed for his bag.

The gentle hills began to fall away to reveal the villages that rolled into Vienna. The space between homes began to shrink, and soon the town lights began to erase the darkness while the sun rose slowly in the distance. While the view was one of Grace's favorites, she couldn't keep her eyes off Liam. Had she really just asked a stranger to share her hotel room? She had only met him an hour before yet she felt like she had known him much longer. It had to be that old soul spirit clinging to him.

Time travel, indeed, she thought as she looked over at the Italian couple. There was no trace of the earlier quarrel. A warm sense of companionship had settled about them as they held hands across the table and murmured softly to each other. It was impossible for Grace not to envy them, just a bit. She wanted that kind of passion and had searched all of Europe with no luck. Or was her luck changing?

She smiled, let her mind take her into he future just as far as her companion had mentioned. Twenty years seemed like forever, but she knew with someone like Liam, the time would fly by. Very much like in the movies, when they show the main character reminiscing, Grace watched her life; marriage, children, anniversaries, all intermingled with warmth, passion, desire. Sharing everything with someone who knew the way to her heart, how to open it, and how to care for it. She knew she was romanticizing this encounter, but she couldn't help it. It just felt right.

Grace glanced over to her bag in the seat beside her. It was all she had with her, and really, all she owned. She noticed it was similar to the bag Liam carried. She bet he didn't have a lot of other possessions, either. The only baggage either of them carried, it seemed, was emotional. Perhaps they could dump some of that here in Vienna. She already felt a little lighter of spirit just sitting across from him.

"Far be it from me to impede your happiness," she smiled as she slid her bag across the table. "This is all the baggage I have."

He lifted an eyebrow and laughed slightly under his breath. Her wit was impeccable. "Why, of course," he replied with a smile. The train was slowing, the buildings around the dining car passing in a more leisurely manner as the breaks squealed beneath the dining car. The anticipation was almost as great as the anxiety. Liam had always thought of himself as spontaneous, but this was something completely different. He was going to be in a strange city with a strange person whom he had no reason to trust - except for the truth in her eyes. The woman was irresistible.

A booming, distorted voice came from the train's intercom system, "Dieser Anschlag, Wien." Liam tugged his backpack around his right shoulder and reached up to grab the bag sitting on the table. The tag on the handle read Grace Lambert. He glanced up at her as he stood. "Well Ms. Lambert, I think this our stop."

Liam stepped into the aisle noticing a small crowd forming at the end of the dining car. He noticed that Grace's bag was no heavier than his own and easily pulled it along with him.

He hadn't been to Vienna yet and the city was relatively alien to him. He had fully intended on an evening of wandering about with no particular destination, but having someone more experienced as a guide would provide a better structure to his evening. He knew of the Prater - a famous ferris wheel - and of the Freud Museum - which had been suggested by his favorite professor, but Grace seemed to be well-traveled and she hopefully she would take him to the nooks and crannies of this old European city.

Moving down the aisle with his new lady friend, waiting in the small line to get off the train, Liam asked, "So, do you have any plans for us? Or should we just be as...spontaneous as possible?"

Ms. Lambert? It was the first time Grace had heard the American pronunciation of her last name in some time. In fact, she almost corrected him before she stopped herself. Then she realized they hadn't shared that piece of information. She had invited a nameless stranger to spend the night with her in Vienna. How very unlike her, she thought.

Please, do call me Grace," she smiled as she watched him wrangle her bag.

The bag. She had carried it across the continent at least 3 times. The corners were beginning to fray and the once bright green was more of an olive drab from wear, but it was the perfect size for travel. If something didn't fit, she probably didn't need it. A couple of travel journals, clothes to get her through 3 days, the basic toiletry items she couldn't live without, and her camera. She kept her cash and passport in her pocket. She was well versed in the rules of light travel.

"So, do you have any plans for us? Or should we just be as...spontaneous as possible?"

Plans? Not exactly. Suggestions was probably the more appropriate term. She knew the music festival was an all day event today and tomorrow, and there was no particular performer or band Grace wanted to hear, she just wanted to experience the local flavor one more time. Vienna was one of her favorite places, and she found herself a little heartsick at the thought of this being her last trip here for a long time. At least she was in good company.

"I've got tickets to a local music festival tonight, if you are of a mind? We could rest up this morning, then I could show you some of my favorite places here. Places you won't find on any tourist travel guide," she added with a wink.

"And, I suppose I should know your name if we are going to be sharing accommodations? Hotel clerks are very nosy here when it comes to Americans. They will think it odd if I don't know your name when we check in."

Was it odd? Grace didn't know, and didn't care. She felt she might follow this man anywhere he invited her to go. She hoped he felt the same about her.

OOC: Sorry that I had to disappear for a few days - I had to do some unexpected travelling. I'm back though!

IC:
Liam tossed her bag over his left shoulder, nudging it against his own as they stepped off the train and into the bustling station. The building was full of old European charm, exquisite architecture that was both highly functional and amazing to look at. But all of the architecture in Europe couldn't hold a candle to the gorgeous woman standing behind him. He turned to glance at her, his eyes moving across her perfect frame. It was rare to find someone so beautiful, so intellectual, and so mysterious and he was looking forward to peeling back the layers that she had so obviously placed on top of her personality. She was hiding something - but so was he.

He smiled, "My name is Liam. Liam Christopher Samuels. I'm a gemini and I prefer my long, sunset walks on cobblestone streets - as opposed to beaches. But I don't suppose the hoteliers will need to know all that."

Liam resisted the impulse to grab her hand, for fear of losing her in the crowd. There were people everywhere and like many Eurail stops they were speaking a multitude of languages at various decibel levels. "As for the music festival - I'm new to this place, so I'll follow you anywhere you want to take me. I'll listen to anything."

As they made their way through the crowd, he spotted the Italian couple in the distance. They were holding hands, making their way up a set of stairs. He pointed them out to Grace, "Forgiveness in action, that's pretty beautiful." Liam stood and watched as they moved out of sight. "You know, I once heard that as a man grows older he loses his ability to hear in the higher register and that as a woman grow older she loses her ability to hear in the lower register. So people literally are incapable of hearing what they're partner is saying as they get on years. So they have to forgive each other for transgressions."

"My, my, Liam, I feel like I know all about you now," Grace laughed softly at his abbreviated autobiography. "I hope you don't mind if I keep a bit of that information about myself a secret for now, so I have something interesting to tell you over lunch? Oh, and I don't usually discuss my zodiac sign with casual acquaintances, either," she added with a wink.

The cacophony of voices, languages, trains all faded into the background when he spoke. Was it his face that captivated her so, or the sound of his voice? When he smiled the weariness fell away from his eyes and she could almost see inside his head. She suspected he had had a wide open heart until not so long ago. That hint of melancholy that hung on some of his words, while he tried to hide it in sarcasm, was impossible for a fellow member of the broken hearts club to miss. It was pretty ridiculous to think they could mend those wounds in the 48 hours they had together, but if they could shove the hurt to the back for awhile and enjoy some light together, well, that was plenty to hope for.

Grace looked at the Italian couple when Liam pointed them out. The wife had her head on her husband's shoulder, and he looked over and kissed her head so gently. Forgiveness, indeed, thought Grace as Liam shared his parable. She couldn't help but think of Karl. How could she forgive him for breaking her heart, at the very moment when she was beginning to feel safe and secure? He had promised he would always be there, always care. And now here she was on the verge of tears in the train station with a seemingly sincere man she was tempted to share her whole life story with based on a hunch about kindred spirits.

"Well, I suppose if you have to, you can forgive anything, eventually," Grace said, not really meaning to share that thought out loud.

The exit was upon them and they followed the other passengers into the sunny morning. The hotel was within walking distance of the train station, at least it was if you didn't have much baggage to carry. Since Liam was carrying everything, though, Grace figured she should at least offer to take her own bag. It wasn't very heavy, but it was bulky, and put physical distance between them. She found herself wanting to be closer to him as they walked. Wanting to hold his hand. Wanting to feel his warmth. She put her hand on his arm and reached for her bag.

"Here, let me carry that while we walk," she said. It's not far, but it's not fair for you to carry everything."

As Grace's hand glanced his arm, Liam could practically feel the chemistry between them igniting. Her soft touch was warm and welcoming, but most of it all it was calming. He could feel his restless spirit fade away, like a wild animal being domesticated. "I was trying to be the upright gentlemen," he said with a charming glance, "but I suppose you're as independent as they come. I'll resume being inconsiderate now." He was joking, of course. Something about this woman made him so nervous that he spoke entirely in jokes and wit. He hoped that she wasn't annoyed by him.

Liam handed Grace her bag and they moved along the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. He was in no hurry to get anywhere and he figured if he treated time as if it wasn't fleeting - then it wouldn't be.

They were standing close together, walking at exactly the same speed, small silence permeating between them. But like with any good friend, the silence wasn't awkward, it was simply a moment between two people. Liam casually looked up at Grace several times as they walked. She was everything. He was used to contemplating the inner workings of black holes, the extent to which space has expanded, and other cosmic quandaries. But the universe itself seemed to make up this lovely woman.

He reached over and gently tangled his fingers within hers. "You know, I'm really glad I decided to get off the train with you." He was being sincere, something incredibly difficult for him. "This isn't something I'd normally do, but...I feel like I've known you for much longer that I have. This trip has been incredibly lonely and even if we would've parted our ways back there, you've given memory that was worth it."

Liam could see a rather large hotel a few blocks down. He assumed that that was where they were headed. "So...we've got a bit of a walk still. I used to play a game with my friends when we were getting to know each other. You ask me a question and I have to answer absolutely honestly and vice versa. We do this until we each other intimately. Being as we have to fit a whole lifetime in the span of 48 hours, I think this would be a good way to get to know each other rather quickly. Would you like to start?"

Her hand in his felt like everything good and right, there was no other way to describe the feeling. It felt like every nerve in her body was being cradled in his warm, gentle grasp, and all the discomforting noise that usually filled her headhad gotten much quieter. Instead of time flying by, leaving no trace it was ever there, now, she could actually feel the seconds pause before they passed. Maybe this is what people who meditated or prayed felt, she thought. She had never been big on either.

Lonely was easy to see in others, at least for Grace it was. Could Liam see it in her, too? When he looked her in the eye she felt like maybe he did. She tried to hide it with sarcasm and wit like he tried to hide his behind his self deprecating ways. They were both still putting on a pretty big show of bravado for each other. At least until he came right out and told her this had been a lonely trip for him. He had slipped in a "she" in their earlier conversations, so Grace knew he had some of her same sorrow along for the ride on this trip, too.

Grace could think of hundreds of questions to ask, things she would like to know about her new friend. But she considered the game carefully before she started. Anything she asked him might lead him to places she wasn't quite ready to go. She had told him he could ask her anything, already. Obviously, he had an idea she might need a little coaxing to make that statement completely true. They had revealed so little of themselves in words, but tone, facial expressions, heavy sighs had filled in some of the blanks. Why bring anything dark to their time together? Grace finally decided. She decided to ask something irreverent, playful, and lighthearted. Something that would make him smile when he thought of her later, after they went their separate ways.

"Sure, I'll start," she smiled. "What's your favorite song to sing in the shower? And don't tell me you don't do it. Everyone does..."

That way, the next time he was alone, singing in the shower, he wouldn't be able to not think of her.

"Hmmm..." Liam thought out loud. He could be honest with this woman. He didn't feel the compulsion to impress her. She seemed to be genuinely interested in him already - a connection fostered purely by their combined presence. Her hand in his felt perfect, it fit effortlessly, and the romance of the moment could have overtaken him.

"Honestly," he answered, "When I was in Budapest, I saw this amazing R&B group from England. They were called Smoove & Turrell and they've been on my mind permanently since then. They've got this lovely song called 'Slow Down' and its the perfect mix of modern production techniques with classic Sinatra soul."

Before Grace could react, Liam belted out the first few lines of the song. He wasn't a professional singer, but he could carry a tune with his baritone voice.

"Slow down your moving to fast,
With your head strung out on all your maybes
Low down, your moment has passed,
Hang around while it just seems to crazy
All you've got is what you have
Salted lines to keep them fed
Always there, but nothing's changed
Even your lies remain the same..."

Several passers-by stared at Liam as he sang in perfect English. This was not a terribly common sight for them and it was obvious. But as usual, Liam relished in his eccentricities and simply turned the other cheek. Grace's opinion was more important than theirs' anyway.

He smiled again - he was doing a lot of that today - staring her straight in the eyes. "I suppose it's my turn, then...what's the best dream you've ever had? And I'm talking subconscious, sleeping - no daydreams that you have control over."

Liam's enthusiastic response to her question caught her by surprise. Not only because it was a song she knew, but because he sang with such abandon. When she blinked she saw him, standing in the shower. Light from an open window shining off the water spray, and then she opened her eyes. Blink and you'll miss it, the thought intruded on her vision but reminded her she was still walking, and had no desire to fall down.

Grace was oblivious to the passers by. "Wow, I have to tell you I am impressed," was all she could think to say.

The vision of him singing in the shower threatened to replay in her mind if she didn't say something, though. Careful what you wish for.

She considered his question carefully. Grace couldn't remember the last time she had awoken from a dream with it lingering in her mind for long enough to think about it. She used to try to write them down and had even kept a special "dream journal" by the bed, until Karl had scoffed at her for it one too many times.

"Dreams are nothing but entertainment for a simple mind," he had told her. "It's what happens when you are awake that counts."

And so, the dream journal, and any thoughts of capturing said dreams, had gone into the trash. No reason to share that story. He hadn't asked for a sad story. He had asked her to describe a dream. A real dream. She was struggling to conjure up a memory when she caught a whiff of something baking. The warm, somewhat bland smell took her back to a fond memory. Not exactly a dream, but perhaps she could spin it into one for Liam? He had, after all, given her an uninhibited glimpse into his head with his a capella performance.

"I love the feel of raw bread dough in my hands," she started. "My grandma used to make the best kolaches, and she let me help when I stayed with her. I got to be almost as good as she was at shaping the dough into perfectly sized balls, then letting them slip from my hand onto the buttered baking dish. When the pan was full, she would spoon the filling, apricots or poppy seeds, into an indentation left by my thumb. I loved the way the dough "popped" beneath my thumb. Sometimes I would pinch just a bit of the dough when I made that well and taste it, salty, buttery, a little bland before the fruit baked in. When I dream of this, I wake up thinking..."

Then she realized how this might sound. She didn't want him to think she was trying to seduce him, here on the open street, so close to the hotel. But she had already started the story, and there was no graceful way to bow out now.

"Thinking about how that warm dough smells and feels like flesh, almost, she continued.

"I always wake from that dream feeling so many things. Warmth, longing, desire, hunger, and strangely enough, satisfaction. Silly, I know," she finished.

It wasn't exactly what he had asked for, but she hoped it would satisfy his curiosity long enough for her heart to slow down, her breathing to stop coming in short pants. If he mistook her arousal for lack of endurance, that night not be a bad thing, she thought as they walked.

Before Liam could respond, she squeezed his hand and nodded her head in the direction of the hotel.

"Right there, behind the tall hotel, is where we will be staying. It's a little rustic, but I think you'll enjoy it," she said.

She would have enjoyed sharing time with him in a hayloft, she thought. She hoped he wasn't expecting anything much more luxurious.

Liam couldn't take his eyes off Grace as she weaved her tale. It was so detailed, almost poetic. Grace was obviously someone who paid attention to the world around her. Liam, on the other hand, was someone always lost in the world as it should be or could be, never as it was. She was the perfect ying to his yang.

The dream was almost too real - as if it was a lost memory returning to the surface - but Liam didn't mind. He loved her voice and her demeanor and the space between her words. And as those words continued, they conjured images in his mind, but not of what she was describing. They were deeply erotic images: flesh touching flesh, mouth touching mouth, bodies entwined. He was trying desperately not to undress her with his eyes. He didn't want this to be a one-night stand. He wanted it to be a genuine connection between two people, but her words were moving together like they were in his mind.

As her story wound down, he could hear her panting, her breath short and rapid. Something about his question had either upset her or had her daydreaming down the same path that he had been. Maybe she was tired, but they hadn't walked that far and she seemed to be in perfect health.

"That's not silly at all," he replied. "I think it's great that your dreams are so vivid. I can barely remember mine and the one's I do remember are the bad ones...or the really good ones." He laughed devilishly. "You must have had a real connection with your grandmother. You have me wanting her kolaches, that's for sure."

He squeezed her hand back, as she squeezed his. "And if you're anywhere near as good a cook as she is, I hope they'll let you use the kitchen at the hotel."

Their hotel was now in sight, a perfectly quaint little Austrian building. It was two-floors, although there was probably a basement. Although it did appear to be relatively deep and could maybe contain sixteen individual rooms. It was the kind of place he had been staying in throughout his entire trip. This time it wouldn't be so lonely. "How did you know that I prefer rustic?" he smiled.