"Let's never go to a party he picks again."
"Agreed." Again, if they're ganging up on me, talking to each other is fine. "And if you ever suspect something is meant to be an apology again-"
"Oh, agreed twice. I mean, that's how you ended up hugging a crocodile."
"Did I?"
"Mmhm. And he got punched by Humphrey Bogart."
"Well I remember that, that was hilarious. Doctor! Doctor, let's get out of here. Let's go and pinch Lauren Bacall and see what happens."
All of this is being called, playground style, from the park railings behind me. In front of me, Marie is standing with her arms folded. "You left me with her."
"The Baron was going to crush Jessica in his fist, what did you want me t-"
"You left me with her."
It's just not a good night to be me, you know. It's a terrible night to be me. I'm starting to genuinely consider Rory's suggestion as regards what to do next. Let's just go and try something else entirely. The thing is, I did want to talk to Marie about something rather important. Now might not be the time to bring it up, though.
Right! Optimism! That's what I was doing tonight, wasn't it? Optimism, right, what's optimistic, what's going all good and swimmingly and lovely? The Ponds are talking to each other, that's good. Jessica may or may not have the blessing of the Ghede people, that would be good. Nobody's tried to kill me yet, which puts me one up on the average Tuesday.
Life is beautiful, alright? Stop questioning it.
And yet, I am moments from snapping, and telling them all just what exactly I think of them. Because when you think about it, none of this, not one particle of it, would have happened if I hadn't left River behind at Alpha Centauri. And I'm not sure how comfortable I am with being attacked from every angle over something which I was never happy with myself, but I did it, because it had to be done. That's the difference between me and them; I know where the line is when it comes to personal involvement, and it wouldn't kill them to show a little appreciation for that when I myself am already, a little bit, just enough to matter, hurt.
I don't get a chance to snap.
A little orb about the size of a baseball pelts down out of the sky, too fast to do anything about. Pond yelps and, in her moment of weakness and need, jumps into Mr Pond's arms. LiGrand, however, reaches out and catches it on one clawed hand, tosses it back and forth to cool and passes it to Marie.
The orb is made of the same ornate wrought iron as the Embassy gates and balconies, and opens to let her get the note out from inside. She reads, LiGrand reads over her shoulder, and they both turn to run.
It's instinct more than anything that sends me running after them. If people are running away from a place it's generally a good idea to do the same, just in case they know something you don't about the aforementioned place. The Ponds too, in their time with me, have accumulated this instinct and follow. Jessica goes where the rest of us go. "What's going on?" I shout up to Marie.
"There's been another one!"
"Another what?"
"You fou, Doctor? You were standing right there!" Yes but I was… long story, and I don't have the breath to tell it.
"The Ponds weren't!"
"A kidnapping! Another kidnapping." And then she lowers her head to keep her breath and just run.
Where the long run takes us is the city end of a bridge that stretches out into swampland. There is a man there, slumped against the pillar, muddy to the hips and with dirt and long fingernail scratches on his face.
Rory, as ever, reverts instantly to carer-mode and falls next to him, checking for a concussion or whatever it is that nurses do in these situations. He's peering into the eyes, which is something to do with concussions, I think.
He is not helped by Marie, on the other side of the man, pelting out questions. "Where have you been?"
"I… I don't know," he croaks. "I don't remember."
"You take a girl with you to I Don't Know?"
"I… I…"
"You-you-you don't know. You forget," she sighs, standing up and away from him, nodding slowly. Looks over at LiGrand and tells him, "We need to be waiting for the next one. We're not getting to them quickly enough."
Amy asks LiGrand what's going on. Because I'm already supposed to know, I turn away in order to listen. It also lets me watch Jessica, who has joined Rory by the muddied and muddled man. Either she's just following Rory, who she knows to be on side and protective, or she is, as I suspect she may be, sniffing for something. Which is new. New, or the mask used to cover it up.
"This is the third. Women disappear, and a couple of hours later we find these men. No idea where they've been or what they've done, completely unrelated, no history of crime or violence. Just men."
"And, what, it's aliens behind it all? That's why you and Marie are involved?" I used to think that was a Scottish thing. Subsequent experience has taught me otherwise, and that is purely human to say things with no thought whatever for what they sound like to the other side. 'It's aliens?' My God, have I taught her nothing?
"Where were the other men found?" I ask.
"Not far from here. One along Joya Street and one back near the park."
"And what's Marie sprinkling on this one?"
She is, too. Something green from a little pouch. She has a great number of these lotions and potions and she's very good with them. It's the way of her people, though she never would tell me what she is.
"Acidified permanganate," she says. "Just checking this one ain't a drunk."
"We nearly did that the first night."
"Louder, LiGrand, I don't know if Legba heard."
While all of this is going on, Jessica gets up and comes shyly over to me. Still wary of showing me her face, she makes her usual mime for writing. Since this is as much communication as we've had since I accidentally stabbed her in the stomach, I gladly hand her my little notebook and marker.
"Him was with girlperson," she writes quickly.
"What makes you say that?"
She stands poised with the marker again, but that's all. Nothing happens, nothing is written. I try to peer around her hair without scaring her; behind she is thinking very hard about something that gives her great difficulty. Then she turns to Amy. First she raises both her hands to show surrender, peace, and keeps one up when the other dips into Amy's jacket pocket. It comes out with a small bottle of perfume. She taps her nose and very swiftly returns the bottle to Amy.
I write down the word 'perfume' for her, and tell Marie what I've just been told.
"Smelled it?" she balks, "Over bayou mud?"
"I wouldn't ask, Marie, it's a long and harrowing story how she got so good at things like this."
Marie sighs. "Fine. LiGrand, you get this gent back on his feet and home, please?"
He bows his head to her and goes to the baffled culprit, slipping one arm under his and dragging him up. "And you, darling?" to Marie, "What are you going to do?"
Marie smiles, gathers Rory back to the rest of us and stands with open arms. "I am finally going to be the hostess I should have been an hour ago, with our most venerated guests."