Quatre stepped into the bathroom after grabbing a salt cracker to munch on from the food cart the courteous your waiter brought in. After shutting the door behind him. He moved to turn the warm water on when he heard the suite door open. 'Probably just the maids here to clean' he thought to himself. He undressed and stepped into the steaming bath. After a few minutes he began to let his mind wander, invariably, to Dorothy. 'I bet she's pissed. I wonder how I can make it up to her.' he pondered, 'maybe I should take her out to dinner tonight…hmm.' while Quatre was postulating, he heard the door open and close again.
Quatre son found out he was wrong about his pervious answer to who had come in, It was Dorothy. She had left a note on the bed, with an address, and one word: Now. Quatre put on another suit from his suitcase and moved to the nightstand to phone a taxi, but stopped as he took another look at the address. 'That's right across the street!" he thought.
After taking the elevator down o the bottom floor, he stepped out into the bright lunar day. He could faintly smell the ozone and helium form the years and years of terraforming. The sun was shining, and the earth seemed to simply blend in with the cyan-turquoise sky. He crossed the busy road and found the building he was looking for, a small, brick building that looked as if it were and old train station before it was diverted to whatever it served as now. Quatre knew this to be not true, there were no trains on mars, and the bricks were hollow, filled with insulation non-metals. The was no sign, and the entrance was behind a fence that lay parallel to the sidewalk, on the side of the building, not in front of it. As he saw himself in, his steel-heeled Italian bracchian business shoes clicking off the polished-quartz-marble floor, he spotted a seater and approached it. Before he could address the person behind the desk, however, a waitress tapped him on the shoulder and asked ; "are you mister winner?"
"Yes."
"Miss Catalonia has been awaiting you"
"Oh, yes…well, erm, you lead the way."
As the pretty young waitress guided Quatre away to Dorothy, he began to figure out what type of building he was in. He noticed the constant smell of meat when he entered one of the grand side rooms where he saw a single table, where lunch for one was prepared. Sitting at the table was Dorothy, in her OZ class c summer dress, with her pressed white blouse and pants, her hat resting on the table. Quatre thanked the waitress and say down in the white steel bistro-style chair across from his travel partner.
By this time he had pieced together where he was now. 'I cant believe I didn't know what this building was! Obviously it's a re….' his thoughts trailed off. His eyes were transfixed on the walls. The black white canvas walls were beginning to ripple and look as if they were coming alive. Colors flashed across them as if a mad swarm of painters were coloring the walls with breakneck speed. Soon it was done. A three hundred-sixty degree painting surrounded them. It began to move. Shapes and figures began o move. Sounds came gurgling out of speakers somewhere…hidden. The images began to focus, and Quatre saw where he was, and totally didn't believe it.
They were in a bistro. In Paris. Far away in the distance he could see the top of the Eiffel tower. It was somewhere around 11:30. He looked around some more and the street sign on the corner read; "Rue Saint Jacque". The road let to a medium-sized bridge that led to a fairly large island. Directly across this river he believed to be the Seine, he could plainly see the Cathedral of Notre Dame, With its magnificent spires and flying buttresses. He recognized the illusion. This was no magical portal to a Parisian bistro. He moved to touch one of the people. His hand moved right though. A hologram. With this he sat down and admired his friend.
"Already finished being taken aback?" Dorothy inquired, "You have seen this before."
Quatre smiled at her. "I know, I just didn't think they had this at the moon. I'd be lying if I told you I liked them. I prefer the real thing." Dorothy shrugged and started on her croissant. 'Where is that menu?' she thought 'I could've sworn I asked for one over 5 minutes ago.'
"I never saw the real use of these," Quatre continued, "I mean I can, but I don't see how you could take it seriously, as if we really were eating at this café. I always thought it was just for fantasy, you know?" Dorothy was slightly amused how he had already forgotten about their previous potentially life-threatening situations as if they were nothing. She then spotted the waitress behind Quatre with he menu. She was about to thank her when
Quatre shot up from his chair. "C'mon, lets do something while we wait!" Dorothy was in no condition to stop him, mentally or physically. Quatre bounded towards the nearby French Accordion player and suggested a classic Russian dance, one of the rare upbeat accordion dancing songs of the Slavs. As he began, Quatre danced about the bistro, as if he were mad, laughing and cajoling the patrons, exclaiming; "Come on then! Laugh it up, dance, be merry, none of you exist!" most laughed and humored the boy.
The song picked up and he moved to the waitress. In his joy, he gently took the menu from her and with a snap of his wrist sent it flying to land on the table where a now aggravated Dorothy sat. He took the waitress's hand and began to waltz with her wildly about the bistro's cobblestone ground to the music. soon the Parisians formed a large circle within the bistro, clapping and stomping their feet the wildly dancing pair. The waitress was undoubtedly taken by surprise. Her long, curly, blonde locks and her long dress fluttered in the artificial wind, and she struggled to keep up with Quatre's dance step.
"Bonjour, mon amour. Je suis fatigué de ce style de vie mat. Courons loin ! oubliez que ce vieux bistro et les lumières de Paris partons de cet endroit et partons loin loin - dans le sud de la France à marier, je construirai une maison, et nous pouvons vivre dans l'amour jusqu'à la fin de nos vies !" He said to her, smiling.
He didn't pay mind to Dorothy, and if he did, he wouldn't have gave the waitress the deep, playful kiss he was now giving her. "You know, If I wasn't absolutely sure of my partner here's feelings, or if I didn't know any better, I guess, I probably would go and do that. If only you were real…if…you...were real...." Quatre trailed off.
He once again mentally took a step back and asked himself what was wrong with the picture he was seeing. 'If she isn't real, then I wouldn't be able to touch her, much less dance with her, or kiss…oh dear.'
Dorothy was fuming. Before Quatre turned to look at her he could hear-no, feel her rage. She looked as if she were breathing fire. Her eyes flared up with hostility and her teeth gritted. She grasped her fork as it were a combat knife, so hard her knuckles turned white.
The waitress, now confused no more, held her hand to her mouth, and was blushing deeply while giggling at Quatre, his careless mistake and his new dilemma. Her blue eyes were wide, filled with wonder and surprise. She gave him two pats on the back and apologized before promptly making her way through the crowd, excusing herself from the suite. She shut the door behind her, still giggling, leaving Quatre in the room with a furious Dorothy, and sealing his fate.
Quatre immediately began to apologize , but Dorothy wasn't listening. She advanced on him, menacingly. Quatre began to back up. "I mean, I didn't -really- mean any pf that, I guess I just got kind of carried away."
Dorothy could barely control herself. She instinctively held the prong-heavy fondue fork in the pinch position in her hand. As she positioned her feet, Quatre put up his arms, and shut his eyes. Dorothy brought the fork to her ear and released it at Quatre.
The fork made one and a half rotations form Dorothy's hand and straightened out just as it passed between Quatre's thumb and index finger, before catching a lock of his hair. It continued unabated into the back of a cockroach that was at the moment climbing down the shoulder of a frightened Quatre. The roach, with the two-pronged utensil still buried in its back, flew off Quatre's shoulder onto the cobblestone below.
Her shaking stopped ,and and her rage subsided. She righted herself once again, and blinked, confused. 'I could've sworn I was aiming right between his eyes!' She dusted the croissant crumbs off her dress. Quatre opened his eyes and saw Dorothy picking up her hat. 'I guess she wasn't going to throw it' he thought. "This place is taking too long. If we wait any longer we're going to be late.
The two entered the main hallway and began to make swift progress towards the main door. Quatre walked a little behind Dorothy, even more confused now. Not only did Dorothy look like she was about to kill him, but now ALL the waitresses were giggling at him and throwing curious glances his way when he past. They kept their distance, though. Although Quatre couldn't see Dorothy's face, he figured Dorothy had her fangs bared, subliminally growling and fending off the 'intruding' waitresses. As they reached the front desk, Quatre found the embarrassed waitress speaking to the older lady behind the main desk, both giggling.
Dorothy went to the huge double French doors, stopped short, and looked back. Quatre came to the front desk and explained to the woman behind the desk, Danielle (according to her nametag) That he and his business partner were terribly late and they had to get going soon. He then addressed the blushing waitress next to her. She told him her name was Anna Navarre. "And now that they were properly acquainted, it was a pleasure to meet you" Said Quatre, with a slight bow. "And i am Quatre Reberba Winner" Danielle gasped, while Anna just blushed deeper. He bowed once more, then kissed her hand. " Perhaps I will return here to finish my meal And maybe the dance before we leave for earth. I bid you both adieu."
He turned and moved towards the door, and just as he was about to pass Dorothy, she also turned towards the door. Quatre quickly turned back and blew a kiss in Anna's direction, just to spite Dorothy. At this time, he was beginning to take sport in teasing his love. Dorothy must have caught this interaction out of the corner of her eye because she snapped her head back, her anger flaring again. Quatre looked at her and smiled innocently. He was a few paces from the doors and saw from the reflection off the glass of Anna, catching the kiss in her outstretched palm, and holding it to her chest. Dorothy, who was still turned back must of given a deadly look, for Responded, by sticking her tongue out at her.
Quatre pushed both doors out, letting the warm air rush at his face. Me moved out onto the warm morning and onto the sidewalk, Dorothy at his heels, putting her hat on. His bangs frayed and flapped about on his face as a gust picked up. He brushed them back, and noticed one of them was considerably short. Frowning, he didn't give it another thought. He smiled once again, and looked quickly at his partner. She would be fine. He looked up at the earth again, and once more, his hair blew apart. He didn't bother this time. He felt refreshed.