Inside a French hotel suite, two people, Robert Langdon and Sophie Neveu were having a quiet conversation. In Robert's case, a losing debate…
While Sophie walked back and forth, from the wardrobe to the king sized four poster bed, where a brown suitcase lay opened and half packed, Robert was (hopelessly) trying to convince Sophie and I quote, 'make her come to her senses'. Sophie merely shook her head as her straight route across the room and back was left undisturbed. The orange glow from the bedside lamp cast odd, stretched shadows across the cream coloured walls of the bedroom.
"Sophie, please," Robert said, from the bed while his eyes traced the image of Sophie, quickly moving, trying to find her passport. Sophie stopped rummaging through the drawer of the bedside table and groaned. "You don't necessarily need to go, an undercover agent can pose as you," Robert tried his last verbal excuse.
"Robert," Sophie said, closing the drawer of the rosewood handcrafted table. "That man held me, by knifepoint mere millimeters from himself. I think he'll notice the little details that show the agent replacement is obviously not me." Sophie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead with her fingers. "And, anyway, Robert," she added, opening her eyes and looking straight at him. "I am a woman of my word and I never leave anything unfinished."
"But Sophie," Robert said. "Is this what this is?" Sophie crossed her arms and looked at him. 'What now?' she thought. "The grudge that you hold because he murdered you grandfather?" Robert said. Sophie rolled her eyes and returned to looking through the wardrobe for some spare clothes. "Robert, that is not the reason that I am going," Sophie said, taking out a cream coloured cardigan. "You mean, not the only reason," Robert assured.
Sophie kept silent as she took out the remainder of her clothes and placed them in the suitcase. The Louis Vuitton bag looked a little over packed. Sophie reconsidered the fleece jacket. "Sophie?" Robert said. Sophie fastened the lock and kneeled down beside the bed. She slipped a hand in and took out another bag, smaller this time. "Sophie?" Robert repeated. Sophie sealed her lips as she put her notebook, pens and other things inside the bag. "Sophie!" Robert said loudly.
"Robert," Sophie snapped, her French accent lacing the singular word. "I am making this clear. I am going on the plane. I will be with the albino monk. I won't be in any danger. And I do know how to protect myself. Understand?" Her infliction in her sentenced could make a raging Rottweiler go into submission. Robert sat on the bed, face unchanged and unaffected. He nodded his head slowly.
"Thank you," Sophie said. "Now, Robert," she said, her voice changing to a sweet kind melody. "Give me back my Passport, S'il vous plaît," she said.
Robert put on an amused face as he reached in the pockets of his black pants and pulled out a small book. Sophie reached out her hand and snatched it from his grip. "Cute," she commented as she dropped the book into her Louis Vuitton handbag.
The ring of Sophie's phone alarm rang through the room, a piercing, high pitched tune in a rhythmic tone. She reached for it in her jacket pocket and turned it off. "Time to go," she said. Robert stood up and Sophie gave him a hug. She gave him a peck on the cheek and grabbed her bags. "Au revoir, Robert," She said. "Don't worry, I'll take care of him." She gave a smile and closed the door behind her, leaving Robert alone, in the silence.
"I know, Sophie," Robert muttered. "But who's taking care of you?"