"Thank you for showing me around the city!"

Leïla smiled brightly as she and Ruth stepped inside the Louvre, looking around the entryway in appreciation. "Of course!" she answered, leading the way up to the ticket counter and handing the woman behind the desk the card that Emilie had given her. "I know what it's like to be new in this city; I'm happy to give you the tour. Of course, it's been a few years since then, but still."

Ruth nodded slowly, following Leïla in the direction of the Islamic art exhibition that had just been reopened and expanded. "I have been here for two months," she mused, pausing to watch a tour group as they passed, "and it feels like I have hardly seen any of the city."

Leïla raised an eyebrow at her. "And in that time, how many times have you actually left the Mansion?"

Ruth frowned. "A few…" Leïla gave her a knowing look. Ruth rolled her eyes. "Though not too many times were just for fun."

"And how many is that? Once?" Leïla shook her head in amusement, leading the way into the exhibit hall and looking up at an enormous tapestry depicting a caravan traveling through the desert. "You can't come to Paris without getting out and seeing the sights!" Leïla told her. "It's a requirement! So after this, I think we need to visit the Eiffel Tower–"

"I have been there, you know," Ruth interrupted, arching an eyebrow.

Leïla shook her head. "It's different when you see it as a tourist than… otherwise," she explained, glancing around the exhibit hall at the groups nearby, including a family standing one exhibit over and looking studying a vase. "I bet you haven't gotten to see the view from the top – or at least not to just enjoy it."

"Not really," admitted Ruth, shaking her head. She hummed ruefully. "I have been so busy with… other things since I arrived…"

"I know." Leïla nodded. "And I understand why it's so important to you. But at the same time…" She sighed. "It's past time that we correct that," she decided, stopping in front of a wooden carving with a sign indicating that it had come from a North African mosque. The map below the sign showed Algeria, along with a star. Leïla frowned. "I wonder if my ancestors could have seen this when it was in the right place," she murmured, tracing the carving in the air with one finger.

Ruth frowned. "The Europeans were pretty good at stealing native treasures," she agreed, letting out a heavy breath.

"Sorry," Leïla apologized, grimacing. "I should have asked if you wanted to see this exhibit first; we could go and look at the Renaissance art instead."

"No, this is, er… fascinating," Ruth assured her. "I know so little about your culture…"

"Likewise," Leïla agreed. She looked away, trying to hide her grimace. "To be honest, I only vaguely remember learning about the Native Americans in History class… three years ago?"

Ruth quirked an eyebrow at her. "That does not surprise me; the American education system hardly teaches about us." She frowned, leaning forward to read the sign below the vase. "I'm really glad there's an English translation…" she muttered, switching languages. Groaning, she rubbed her forehead. "I really get what Julia meant…"

"'Julia'?"

"Lupa Gris," Ruth explained. "She was in Paris last year, but with the baby coming…"

Leïla nodded in realization. "Father mentioned a couple check-ups with a pregnant woman, not long after he started the clinic. Adrien gave him a lot of business early one; I wonder if that was her."

Ruth shrugged. "Might have been. Though she was mostly living back in Peru by February or so."

"That is where your temple is, right?" asked Leïla curiously, not taking her eyes off of the ceremonial imam's robe in front of her. Ruth nodded. "I would love to see it someday."

Ruth grinned. "I'll give you the tour! Next time I'm back there, that is. Though I should warn you: Spanish is our team's primary language, so you might need me to translate."

"Not English?"

Ruth shook her head. "Just about everyone speaks English, but almost everyone has Spanish as a primary language – that was the first thing I had to learn when I arrived. And now I'm here, back to square one." Shifting back to French, she added, "Still, having someone to practice the language with helps."

Leïla hummed. "I know! I'd heard French off and on, but then my family moved here and it was all I ever heard. I almost failed out of my first year of school after we moved."

"I hope I get as good with French as you are."

Leïla grinned. "You'll get there – at least if you stay for a while." Glancing down toward the end of the hall, she started on recognizing the three people who had just walked in. "No way…" Ruth cocked her head in confusion, and Leïla gestured for her to follow. "Come on! You can meet a couple more of my classmates!"

"Leïla!" called Marie excitedly, her voice surprisingly loud in the otherwise quiet exhibit hall. A couple of people turned to stare at them, as Marie dragged the other two the length of the hall, grinning eagerly. Pulling her arm away from Laurent on reaching them, Marie gave Leïla a quick hug. "I should've realized we'd bump into you here!"

"Why?" Laurent asked Marie, raising an eyebrow. "Because it's Islamic art?"

Marie flushed.

Leïla stifled a laugh. "It's fine – I actually came to give my new friend a tour of the city."

"Right… Ruth, correct?" asked Marie, her brows furrowed. "I remember you from the movie night."

"That is right!" Ruth acknowledged, her eyes widening in surprise. "I am glad you remembered!"

"Of course!"

"Well, I'm glad we ran into you," interjected Thierry, giving Laurent and Marie a look. "When Laurent invited me to come with, I didn't realize he was inviting me to a date."

"It's not a date!" Marie retorted heatedly, planting her hands on her hips. "We're just… hanging out."

"Uh huh." Thierry smirked. "Then tell me one thing about the mosaic back there… other than the fact that it 'matches Laurent's eye color perfectly'." Marie opened and shut her mouth dumbly. Thierry rolled his eyes at Leïla. "Maybe this way we can all be 'third wheels' to them!"

Leïla giggled. "That's fine with me… Ruth?" She paused, looking back and forth between Thierry and Laurent. "I'm sorry. Ruth is a friend of a friend who is staying in Paris over the summer. I offered to show her around the city. Marie met her last week."

Ruth nodded. "It is nice to meet you both."

"Likewise," Laurent responded, grinning. "Any friend of a friend of Leïla's is a friend of a friend of a friend of ours!"

Marie rolled her eyes. "You're too funny," she deadpanned. Laurent wagged his eyebrows and poked her in the side, eliciting a yelp.

Ruth furrowed her brows in confusion. Leïla shrugged.

Thierry rubbed his forehead, shaking his head. "They've been doing this all morning. All. Morning."

"You're just jealous," Laurent told him.

"Sure."

"Hey, did you see the, um, hijab over there?" Marie asked, pointing and leading them back toward the other entrance. "That couldn't have been easy to wear in the desert."

Leïla hummed, examining the cloth closer when they reached it. "Actually," she explained, "that looks a little more like a litham than a hijab – litham are worn more by men, while hijab are worn by women. In the desert, it's normal to cover up as much as you can. The more your body was exposed to sun, the more you might burn and the more you would overheat."

"Wait, really?" Marie cocked her head to one side. "I just always figured you wanted less clothing – that way you could cool off in the breeze and your sweat would evaporate."

"And when it evaporated, it would just leave you hotter," Leïla pointed out. "As opposed to insulating you against the heat."

"So you're saying next time we go to the beach, I should wear a burkini like you?"

Leïla shrugged. "I wouldn't stop you."

"But wouldn't you feel more comfortable the other way?" Laurent prodded, raising an eyebrow meaningfully, his hand drifting down her side to rest just above her hip. "You can feel the sun on your skin…"

"And now you see what I have to put up with," Thierry complained, shaking his head.

"My condolences." Leïla gave him a curious look. "So, why this exhibit?" she asked. "Still trying to 'learn more about the culture'?"

He shrugged noncommittally. "It is interesting," he answered. "There really is a ton I didn't know. And the more I learn, the more I realize that I have yet to learn."

Ruth nodded. "I have learned a lot already, just from what we have seen."

Thierry cocked his head. "You mean you're not…" Ruth arched an eyebrow. Thierry flushed. "I mean, that is to say… with the, um, hair and, um… I'll shut up now."

Leïla sighed. "Ruth is not from Algeria."

Ruth started, staring at him in confusion. "No… I am from America."

"But where are you from?"

Ruth blinked. "America."

"I mean before that."

"You mean my…" Ruth pursed her lips, her brows knit together.

"'Ancestors'?" suggested Leïla.

Thierry nodded mutely.

Ruth gave him a look. "America."

"O–oh." Thierry flushed in embarrassment. "I'm–I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I just–"

Ruth frowned. "It is fine." She glanced at Leïla. "Maybe we should go…"

"No," Thierry interjected, grimacing, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "I'm–I'm sorry. I was being stupid. I just – I haven't met any… um… Native Americans before? I, um, I didn't mean any offense."

Ruth shrugged noncommittally.

Leïla let out a breath, following along with Ruth as the group moved back through the exhibit hall, stopping in front of each piece in turn. Thierry stayed on the far side of the group, away from Ruth, though he glanced over at her a couple of times. A couple of times, he turned toward Leïla, a questioning look on his face, but remained silent.

Finally, when they had seen the whole exhibit, Marie asked, "Who's up for some ice cream?"

Laurent grinned, leading the way out. "I'd take some!"

Outside in the courtyard around the pyramid, Leïla found a bench to sit down with Ruth while Laurent and Marie went to find the ice cream stand. Glancing up, she found Thierry standing a couple paces away from them. "Not getting ice cream?"

He shook his head. "I'm… not hungry."

"What was with all that stupid Muslim junk?" demanded a voice from the other side of the court. Leïla turned to follow the voice and found a trio of men, probably in their thirties at least, sitting around one of the picnic tables on the other side of the courtyard. The speaker scoffed. "Do we really need all of that stuff sitting around? We've got more than enough of them around Paris as it is…"

Leïla pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed. Beside her, she could sense the tension and discomfort from Ruth. Glancing toward the side, Laurent and Marie were just getting their ice cream and turning around to walk back toward them in their direction.

"What are they talking about?" asked Ruth, cocking her head in confusion.

Thierry glanced down at Leïla. "Are you…?"

Leïla's mouth set in a thin line, and she breathed slowly through her nose. "I did think the museum would be safe…"

"Do you… not feel safe?" asked Thierry, his eyes widening. His posture shifted. "When people are talking like that, I mean?"

Leïla clenched her jaw, her hand finding the bracelet on her wrist. Before, she had felt unsafe any time that someone spoke that way around her. She had been assaulted on her way home by a group of people talking just like that. Over the three months since she had received her miraculous, she had had more confidence and been able to push that fear aside. But still… "It depends," she admitted. "Not because of you," she added quickly. "At least since summer started, I've gotten used to it."

He let out a breath. "It's not exactly something you should have to get used to," he pointed out.

Leïla frowned. "Maybe not… but I have." Movement drew her attention back to the group of men, and her eyes widened as one of the three made eye contact with her and they all stood up. She tensed, her hand going to her purse and feeling for Kheaa. The three men stumbled across the courtyard toward her. Quickly she pulled her hijab up, tucking the end into the corner by her cheek.

"What have we here?" demanded one of the three men, stopping a couple paces away from Leïla and eyeing her hijab. "Afraid to show your face? Worried we'll–"

Leïla started to rise, but before she could, Thierry put a hand out toward her and interposed himself between her and the men. "Leave my friend alone," he told the man, his voice low. "She has as much right to be here as you or I."

Standing up, Leïla put a hand on Thierry's shoulder, tugging him back. "Leave it alone," she hissed. "They're not worth it."

"What, you think you're better than us?" the second man scoffed, eyeing her down.

Leïla folded her arms and clamped her mouth shut, glaring at him.

The third man's eyes drifted past Leïla. "I guess your friend decided to try fitting in," he mused, giving Ruth an amused look. "Or did you just lose your towel?"

Leïla's eyes flashed. "You leave my friend alone!" she shouted, clenching her fists. "You're so bigoted you can't accept anyone different from you; you're so stupid you don't even understand that people can come from different places, and you're so ignorant you don't even care to understand the people you claim to hate so much!"

The man growled, and Thierry took a step forward, glaring up at the man, his mouth set in a thin line. "I was led to think the same way you do, once," Thierry told him, a hint of threat in his voice. "I discovered that I was wrong. Maybe if you try getting to know people, you'll figure out they're actually not as bad as you've been trained to think they are," he informed the man evenly. The man's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, his face centimeters from Thierry's. Thierry stared back at him without flinching, and asked Leïla, "What do you want to do?"

Leïla glared at the three men before glancing off to the side, toward where Laurent and Marie were staring at them wide-eyed. She gritted her teeth. She wouldn't make a scene here – not when her friends could get hurt. "Let's get out of here," she told Thierry. "They're not worth it."