Christy and Jean had moved to a different room to talk, leaving Claude to himself. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Six hundred years. He thought. Why would the witch choose such a long time? He stood up, walking over to the window, almost too afraid to pull back the cream colored curtains. Instead he focused on the room surrounding him.

Her "apartment", Whatever that is, he thought, was quaint and homelike. The room he currently occupied, which seemed to be some sort of common area, had light blue walls and white baseboards. An innocent color scheme, he thought, his eyes roaming over the room with a sort of curiosity, though his face did not reveal it.

There were two cushioned chairs, the one on his left was closest to the window, sort of pushed together, though there was some considerable amount of space between them. To the right of the second chair, he saw what looked to be a long seat, also cushioned. Her furniture matched the color of the curtains.

One thing that caught his eye was the large, black,slim box in front of him, which was placed so anyone who sat on the furniture could clearly see it. It was somehow attached to the wall. Upon closer inspection, he noticed it was no thicker than the width of his hand, and almost the same length as one of his arms. He noticed little bumps on one of side of the box, and reached out to touch it.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He turned and saw Christy standing in the adjoining walkway, which led to the rest of the house. She was smirking at him, her blue eyes shining with laughter.

Frollo decided to not focus on her eyes and turned back to the black box, pointing at it. "What is this?"

"A television," she replied. "Thought turning it on will probably cause you to have a mental break down. And we just got you back to the world of the living."

"I've been dead?!" he asked incredulously, clutching his hand to his chest as he looked at her with wide eyes. He closed them tightly, praying to God that this wasn't heaven, or hell. HIs heart hammered loudly in his chest, and he felt like he couldn't get in enough air.

Suddenly, a small hand covered his, fingers barely brushing the back of his hand. He opened his eyes and saw Christy. She was so close.

"No, you haven't been dead," she said gently. "I apologize for scaring you. It was a joke. I won't do it again."

Frollo nodded, trying not to focus on the fact that her hand was much warmer than his. He looked down at them, noticing that she was almost as pale as he was. Deciding to change the subject and clear his mind a bit, he asked "Why are you so pale?"

Christy removed her hand and motioned for him to follow her. He followed her into the next room, noticing that the floor changed from a soft, cloth like floor to harsh white tiles. He was gazing around the slightly smaller room as she started to speak.

"I work in a lab," she said. "I don't expect you to know what that is. But basically I don't really get much time outside." She started opening cabinets, pulling down plates and cups.

"Is this the kitchen?" he asked, realizing he sounded like an idiot who knew nothing. That's because I don't know anything of this place.

Christy hummed her affirmation, and walked to a white box, opening the lower door. He noticed that inside the white box were foods. Immediately he realized he was hungry. He walked over to the long counter, and sat down on one of the stools, watching her as she moved about.

"Do you like sandwiches?" she asked, using the knife that she had threatened him with, to cut the food.

"I have never had a sandwich," he answered evenly. "Where is Jean?" he asked, noticing her friend was no where to be seen.

"He's resting."

"Is he not feeling well?"

"Oh, he's fine!" she answered happily. She set a plate in front of him, along with a glass of water. "He just had a long night. Him and his partner aren't getting along." He noticed that her plate was much smaller than his.

"Have you enough to eat?" he asked, ready to offer his own if needed.

"Yes. I don't eat much anyways," she said, waving her hand dismissively, and taking a bite.

Frollo looked down at his meal. He noticed bread, and in between the bread, was some kind of meat, tomato, and a yellowish slice of something. Instead of scrutinizing it, he said a small prayer over the food, took a bite, and marveled at the flavors.

"When you're finished, we need to talk about you for a while," Christy said.

Frollo nodded and continued eating, his stomach sinking with foreboding, hoping he could still convince her that he was telling no lies.

"What do you do for a living?" she asked, clearing their plates and glasses.

Frollo wiped his mouth with a napkin and said, "I'm a Minister of Justice, appointed by the King himself. I protect Paris from those who wish to corrupt her."

"Meaning gypsies?" Christy asked, sitting across from him, he hands cupping her glass of water. Frollo was not used to the comfortableness she seemed to exude, being unfamiliar with her customs.

"Yes," he said, his eyes growing cold.

"Why such hate for those different than you?"

The minister was taken aback at her words. He was never asked such a question. "You dare-"

"I do," Christy said evenly, her face betraying her anger. "You have no power here Minister, and I'll be damned before I let you lord over me in my home. I do not take kindly to racists. I may be one of the whitest fucking women you'll meet, but all of my friends come from different races and backgrounds." She took a breath, exhaling slowly, closing her eyes and seeming to gather herself. She ran a hand over her hair and opened her eyes, looking at him with such fire, though her face was calm.

Frollo was shocked at her. No one had shown such a defiance to him, but he knew she was right. He was not in Paris, not in his own time. He calmed himself, steepling his fingers in front of his chin, leaning his elbows on the counter. "I apologize. I am not used to being questioned. As the Minister of Justice, I had a very high position of power. Those who questioned me would be punished."

"There won't be any punishing of the sort here," Christy said, visibly relaxing.

"Now if I may explain why I dislike them so much?" She nodded.

"Gypsies- or Romani if you will- brought the plague into Paris when they arrived. Killing thousands of people, including my parents. As a man of God, I do not like them for causing temptations within in the city. They're thieves, liars and witches."

"And you really believe that?" she asked.

"Yes."

She hummed in dislike. "Looks like I've got my work cut out for me." She stood up and put her hand on Frollo's arm, pulling him up. He acquiesced, confused about her sudden change of mood.

"Let's go get you some new clothes." She glanced back him, leading him down a hallway that connected to the kitchen. "You can't wear the same thing everyday."

He nodded absentmindedly, looking at her as they walked. All he could focus on was that she was still holding his arm as they walked.

/Hey guys! I'm loving the reviews. To answer a question that was posed, no Christy is not the new Esmeralda. Sorry. I love Fresme, but there's a reason I use the OC. I do have plans to use Esmeralda in a totally different story. I want to update daily; that's the goal anyways, and so far I've been keeping up with it. I love reviews, so keep 'em coming!