Holy crud, this one is even shorter than the last one...don't mutiny on me, I just wanted to get something posted for you! Hopefully the next chapters will start coming a lot sooner. I can't make any promises, but I'll try to do my best. :)

The sun was sinking in the sky when Erik and Ange walked back into Rouen. Genevieve had insisted she stay the whole afternoon and visit with her, and foiled all attempts at escape. When informed of evening's approach, she'd charged Erik with seeing her safely to the inn and he'd elected to comply rather than argue with her. Nevertheless, he was silent as they traveled aside from offering to carry her luggage and replying tersely whenever she ventured to speak.

After a long pause, she asked timidly, "What do you do at the fair?"

"I'm a magician," he answered, then went quiet.

She nodded slowly and asked, "Where did you learn to be a magician?"

"In another fair."

There was another long pause and they continued on without even looking at each other. The sound of the wind rustling the grass was soft and serene, and noise from the fair still echoed back to them. She felt that same calm bliss that had taken her at the Paris train station come upon her again, and though Erik was still as cool as ever, her reserve began to dissolve. "What about your family?" she asked. "Were they part of the fair?"

"No." The tone was short, clipped, and sharp, about the equivalent to a bee sting.

Ange's brow creased slightly, but she kept on. "Where were they? They can't have just let you run off and join a traveling fair without a word."

"They didn't have much to say about it," he told her.

"Why not?"

He sighed in annoyance and asked, "What about your family? Where are they?"

"My father died when I was still very young," she said, "and my mother has been gone for four years. I still miss her terribly."

"I'm sorry." The condolence was automatic. Genevieve had been trying to drill some manners into him for months, but it was hard to feel true empathy for a total stranger, let alone on a subject he knew so little of. He didn't speak for a few minutes, then thought, What the hell? "Do you have any other family?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Ange replied.

"Not even in-laws? I think you said you were a widow..."

Emile's smug face sprang to her mind, but she shook her head. "No. No one."

Erik nodded, then there was silence again. They kept walking, feeling steadily more awkward with each step. Maybe one of them should try to keep the conversation going…but which one? Erik wasn't much of a talker, but it was preferable to her staring at him waiting for him to say something. Ange could hold her own in any social setting if given the chance, but this was unlike any social setting she'd ever so much as thought of before.

They were nearly in Rouen when he suddenly gestured to her cello and asked, "Do you play?"

She was caught off guard for a moment by the unexpected yet long awaited speech, then replied, "Yes. I love to play."

"And that was the only thing you could save from your house? You mentioned a fire earlier…"

Ange bit her lip, then nodded. "Yes. It was the only thing worth saving."

"Which is to say your husband wasn't?" Erik asked.

She turned wary eyes on him. "Why are you interrogating me?" she demanded.

"I'm not," he told her unaffectedly, "but if I was, don't forget that you were interrogating me first. Unless it's customary to prod in a stranger's personal life in Paris? I've never been, I can't say."

She sighed. "Do you know where this inn is?"

"No. I've already told you several times, I'm new to this city."

"Never mind, then. I heard it was somewhere near the cathedral."

The traffic in the streets had thinned significantly with the sun's setting, but there were still people milling about. They paid the strangers no mind as they went on their way, and the strangers themselves were no longer even paying each other any mind. Ange's eyes slipped from one building to the next, looking for the inn. She was tired and hungry, and she wanted to get away from this rude young man. She'd been eager for his help before, but he'd been completely unhelpful so far and he asked uncomfortable questions.

Finally, she spotted the sign hanging out above the street of a bushy-maned lion laying on the ground next to a snowy white lamb. Light spilled out from the windows and there was the hum of many voices whenever the door was opened. It was lively in the common room, from what she could tell, but she hoped it was more sedate as the night wore on.

She turned to Erik. "I suppose you can go back now," she told him.

"I suppose I can," he replied, "and then I can listen to Genevieve for the rest of the night demanding to know why I hadn't made sure you got a room safely."

"I'm sure I can get my own room."

"I'm sure you can, and I'm going to watch you do it."

"Why?"

"Because enough of my night has been sacrificed to chatter as it is, and I'd like some peace when I return to the fair."

Chatter? she asked herself. He's hardly said anything at all! She shrugged and stood outside the door expectantly.

He stood watching her nonplussed for a few minutes, then asked, "Aren't you going in?"

She was silent for a moment, then responded, "A gentleman gets the door for a lady."

"Does he? I wasn't aware." He continued to stand there, either ignoring the hint or not recognizing it in the first place.

She tried again. "My hands are full," she said, indicating her luggage.

"So they are." And still he stood.

She had to keep from rolling her eyes. Ladies didn't roll their eyes, and Lisette had taught her to be a lady. It was clear that no one had taught Erik to be a gentleman. "Aren't you going to open the door?" she asked.

"As soon as you actually put the question to me," he replied.

Ladies don't roll their eyes! "Will you open the door, please?"

Without further ado, he turned the knob and held it open for her, following her inside once she'd crossed the threshold. The innkeeper, a man of average height and of aged but immaculate appearance, appeared and asked, "Can I help you?"

Erik didn't say anything, but Ange hardly expected him to. "I'd like a room, if you please," she said.

"Just the one?" the innkeeper asked, glancing inquiringly at Erik.

"Yes." She gestured to her companion. "He won't be staying here. He's part of the fair."

There was a glint of comprehension in the man's eyes as the young man's eccentric mien made sense to him. "For the one night, mademoiselle?"

"For now, monsieur."

He nodded. "Then if you'll just follow me upstairs…"

Ange spoke to Erik one last time. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

"Likewise." He watched her go after the innkeeper, then turned and set off into the night again, glad to be alone once more. He supposed she was…all right…but she asked awkward questions.