Incolore

It was raining.

Francoeur paced two steps behind Lucille: holding her umbrella while she was carrying her basket of groceries. A seven foot tall man in a white suit, blue scarf and ivory mask wasn't the least conspicuous costume Lucille could have picked for him. Surprisingly, people were getting used to his appearance. Everyone in the neighborhood by now had seen him perform at one time or another. They all just assumed it was a ploy set up by Madame Carlotta to drum up excitement and mystery. The silent giant certainly piqued a lot of interest- but now he was a normal sight on the street or in the market. Nothing to get flustered about. Except for his lack of speech, he was the picture of politeness and a fine upstanding the eyes of the public, Lucille could have done worse.

Of course the public did not know they were not lovers.

Of course the public didn't know Francoeur was a giant flea.

But what the public didn't know would not hurt them.

And Francoeur wouldn't hurt a fly- and not just because he was too closely related.

Lucille bustled past pushcarts of vegetables, fragrant bakeries and the odd butcher shop. Today's shopping was largely done. It was time to head home before the fickle weather took a turn for the worse. Francoeur followed obediently, glancing into every window he passed. Each one held new wonders: candles draped from strings, books in a rainbow of colors crammed into shelves, curing meat swinging gently, wheels of cheese forming a small pyramid and much, much more. Lucille had come to a stand-still a few metres ahead peering into another store. This one was a flower shop. She knew how much Francoeur loved the aroma of freshly cut blossoms. He had stopped next to her gazing in for a second, but his eyes fell upon their reflection together. Her mouth and its curve of a smile. His large white hat casting a shadow on his face. He liked what he saw. He liked seeing the two of them like that, in that window.

Lucille's green eyes fell on his face in the reflection. They made eye contact. It was like her eyes cut to the heart of him. As if he was as transparent and colorless as the glass in front of him. As if his soul was laid bare in front of her gaze. If she wanted, he would tear his soul out, right now, right here, for her. All she had to do was ask.

She knew.

She had to.

He wanted to tell her everything. That Raoul couldn't possibly love her more than he did. That he would die happy knowing that she felt that same kind of love. Francoeur touched the mirror image of Lucille's face and softly chirped. The coolness of the glass seeped through his gloves .It was only then that he noticed that she was staring at his real face just as intently. He suddenly flushed hot. Did she notice? Could she see? The umbrella waivered in his other had. Would she scream at him? Tell him it wasn't alright?

But instead of a response, she just grinned wider and walked into the shop. Minutes later she came out. It took a few minutes, but she left the shop with a bouquet of blue roses. These ones happened to be exact same color as his chitin shell: Light blue at the center and navy at the tips. Lucille gently placed them into the basket next to a few apples.

"I know how much you like flowers." She said, and then took his arm in hers. "Come on then, let's go home."

And so Francoeur and Lucille walked back to the apartment in the rain-

Transparently in love to all who saw them.

A/N: "Of course the public did not know they were not lovers."(At least not yet guys.) I am easing my way into this. Be patient with me. Also, I neglected to mention this is a part of a challenge I decided to have with my friends back home.

I owe them for my diligence.

Still haven't seen the damn movie.

Probably so much OOC that seven or eight fat kids could choke on it.