"Go to Rome, you said. It'll be fun, you said," Athos growled while pacing back and forth before Aramis.
"You were having fun-"
"d'Artagnan's loose! This is the opposite of fun."
"Athos, you worry too much," Aramis informs him, his tone irritatingly calm.
"No, I worry exactly the right amount." Athos whirls around to face his friends only to find Aramis alone leaning against the wall. "Where's Porthos gone?"
Sighing, Aramis tilts his head toward the crowded square where Porthos stands with a young woman flicking coins into the fountain at the square's center.
"Porthos," Athos hisses, and Porthos returns to his friends by only after bidding his lady friend goodbye with a kiss of her hand and a wink.
"She's pretty," comments Aramis.
"Yeah," Porthos chuckles and his cheeks color.
"Does she have a name?"
"Of course she's got a name."
"But do you know it, Porthos?"
"Claudia."
Aramis beams at his friend's achievement and heartily chomps on his apple.
"Oi, you got another?"
Out of some apple-concealing pocket, Aramis produces a second apple and tosses it to Porthos.
"Gentlemen," Athos groans. "I'm going to find d'Artagnan."
"Are we splitting up or searching as a group?" Aramis asks through a mouthful of partially chewed apple.
For nigh on a minute Athos only looks back and forth between Porthos and Aramis before deciding, "You two go back to our rooms. I'll find d'Artagnan, and meet you there." Athos turns to leave but stops when Porthos calls to him.
"You'll probably need this." He holds out their hastily sketched map of the city, and Athos snatches it and walks away.
Porthos and Aramis track his progress through the crowd, and when he reaches the opposite end of the square, they slip into the nearest alley.
"You'd think Athos would learn to make his directions more specific. As long as we get back to the rooms at some point, we're fine."
"I think," Aramis muses, "he suspects we still wouldn't obey if he was as specific as possible."
"True."
The duo continues sauntering down the alley until two scrawny, lightning fast children sweep past them and disappear like phantoms, taking Aramis' and Porthos' money with them.
"Shall we give chase?" Aramis queries.
"Not unless you've become intimately familiar with the back streets of Rome."
On they wander with no real purpose according to Aramis' theory that if d'Artagnan is as lost in this city as they are, then walking nowhere with any speed or intention will be the quickest way of finding him. Porthos shakes his head at this but goes along with it because he likes exploring the city this way, going wherever their feet may take them. When the bells toll noon, their stomachs grumble like wolves howling at the moon.
"Do you think any of the shops give out free samples?"
"Porthos, I think that would only worsen my hunger."
"I hate being broke," Porthos grumps, kicking at the loose stones around his feet.
Aramis grabs Porthos' arm and pushes up onto his tiptoes in an attempt to see over the people surrounding them.
"What are you doing?" asks Porthos.
"I've just had an idea." A half-mad grin spreads across Aramis' face. Inside Porthos' mind all manner of alarm bells and warning signs beg Porthos not to participate in whatever scheme Aramis is about to unleash upon the unsuspecting people of Rome. It won't end well. It can't end well, yet Porthos goes along with Aramis regardless. After all he's hungry, and if Aramis has a plan to fix that, it's worth a try.
Athos is close to loathing Rome, but he refrains because the city isn't to blame for d'Artagnan wandering off and the others being far from helpful. So he trudges on turning the map this way and that, the lack of clearly labeled directions or landmarks making it near impossible to decipher.
When a street musician bursts into a Spanish ballad, Athos growls under his breath, crumples the poor excuse for a map, and throws it over his shoulder. He could hardly think before, but now that he's also being forced to listen to street entertainment he's storming away from the crowded area. With luck he'll find d'Artagnan before he himself is lost in this city. He'd never hear the end of it from Porthos and Aramis then.
"I'm impressed," Porthos grins at Aramis. Aramis for his part only nods in acknowledgement of Porthos' praise, the rest of him engaged in singing in playing for money. Beside Porthos sits the owner of the guitar; in exchange for a share of the earnings, the man was gracious enough to loan his instrument to Aramis.
On and on Aramis sings and plays until he's earned enough for Porthos to adequately gamble with. Then he returns the guitar, and they slip into one of the alleys they'd strolled through earlier, having passed a variety of cards games and dice previously. Aramis, assuming Porthos intends to employ his usual game-winning strategies, heads toward the card games, but Porthos' hand on his shoulder quickly halts his progress in that direction.
"I want to try something different," Porthos whispers, dice in hand.
Aramis sweeps an arm in the direction of the dice related activities. Porthos dips his head and saunters through the area of play, passing several games of Liar's Dice without so much as a second glance. Unable to keep from smirking Aramis recalls why Porthos doesn't touch that game. "It leaves too much to chance", he'd said. With any other man Aramis would argue that it's hardly different from cards, but what he understands about Porthos is that Porthos cheats out of survival instinct, more often not to fill his stomach or someone else's. With cards he can cheat and cheat well. Why then is he playing dice today?
When Porthos settles on a game where the object seems to be to roll sevens, Aramis figures it out. Porthos' dice are loaded. All is well until Porthos gets sloppy while changing between a loaded and unloaded pair, and then the duo finds themselves running for their lives from first the other gamblers and then the city guards (who are far more efficient in their duty than those found patrolling the streets of Paris). It takes little time for the guards to corner Porthos and Aramis in a dead-end alley, clap them in irons, and haul them off to prison.
While being tossed into a foreign slammer is dreadfully low on their vacation to-do list, the two can't help but laugh and enjoy this strange moment when they recognize their cellmate to be none other than the previously misplaced d'Artagnan.
"Athos is gonna kill you," Porthos informs the lad with a grin that says he'll enjoy watching the young man suffer their elder companion's displeasure.
"He won't spare you," d'Artagnan shoots back although doubt creeps into his words.
"Of course he will. We found you after all." Aramis leans back against the wall, hands behind his head and legs crossed, idiotic grin lighting his face.
Beyond desperate, Athos begins searching jails for d'Artagnan. Well after the sun sets, he enters what he's decided will be the last prison for the night. The jailer's recognition of the Gascon's description is equally relieving and infuriating, but looking into the cell and finding not only d'Artagnan but also Aramis and Porthos is too much after wandering the city in search of their youngest comrade.
"I'll be back for them tomorrow," he promises the keeper of the keys and returns to their rooms at the inn. This calls for wine. Lots and lots of wine. And if he forgets to collect his 'friends' tomorrow because of his hangover, maybe they'll finally learn their lesson however unlikely that may be.