Disclaimer: All owned by Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding. Bryan Ferry presumably owns himself, but he's... not quite real, this guy.
The Secret History of Vince Noir
Marie stepped from the car and waved at the driver as he went to park. Her family hurried towards the theatre, worried that they might be too late to be fashionable, and late enough to not be let in.
Theatre wasn't really Marie's passion, it was her husband's, and for a joke, Marie had suggested why didn't they go and see Bryan Ferry in concert that night instead. But that would have outraged the children; they loved theatre even more than Claude did. Claude's brother and sister-in-law, Paul and Ronette, had brought their manic children Robert and Jeanne, who at aged twelve and ten both wanted to be famous actors and recited their favourite parts of whatever play they had just seen very loudly, over and over again on the ride home. But even they were no match for Marie's own son. Despite being only four years old, Vincent got so excited at the thought of seeing a play that saying he couldn't go provoked a tantrum most mothers only see in their worst nightmares. Somehow he managed to behave himself perfectly in the theatre, but once he got out he became so hyperactive, it really was best to let him swing from the lights, if his compulsion drove him to do so, until he was tired enough to go to bed.
Ironically, if Marie and her family had gone to see Bryan Ferry that night, Vincent would never have met him, and would have stayed and lived a comfortable life in wealthy Parisian society. As it was, when two gunmen stood up against the bourgeoisie they hated, Bryan, having been considering visiting the same theatre a few nights on when his Paris concerts had finished, was the first person to realise the little boy was still alive. Watching him, a tiny slip of a child in the scene of a massacre, he was compelled to take the boy, run away with him before the police arrived, and claim him and protect him as his own.
Vincent spent the evening in a large, plush room the likes of which he had never seen before. People rushed around everywhere, offering to give him things and trying to stop him crying when they wouldn't tell him why he was there and where his maman was. It had been terrible at first, because he hadn't understood the words these people were saying, but eventually someone had told him in real words but with a funny accent that he was safe, and he had had to come here because his parents couldn't be there at the moment.
But we were going to theatre together like always… he thought.
He spent the evening in silence, refusing to look at the funny word-speaking people, until the sound of music that Vincent hadn't heard the likes of before drifted into the room and into his head, and sent him drifting off to sleep.