AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Ew, crappy new chapter. Sorry It's so short; I don't even understand why this is getting any feedback. But, thank you all so much! This is a huge confidence booster. And, I apologize for not posting often- I have midterms and family stuff going on, as well as personal issues. Stay lovely, my dears.

CHAPTER THREE

Arthur was walking down the street yet again; but this time, it was even colder and darker outside than before.
He couldn't stop looking at the card that man had given him. On further observation, he saw that there was no phone number, nor a company name on the card. It just said, "Meet me at Coq d'Argent ."

Strange.

Am I really going to go see this man? He thought to himself.
Arthur just brushed away the idea, and decided he'd think about it in the morning. All he wanted to do right now was make some tea, crawl into bed, and watch a nice television program. But, most of them would probably be Christmas oriented, which irritated him greatly. Maybe not, then.
He blinked his tired eyes, rubbing them in an attempt to moisten them. He was absolutely exhausted, and wanted to sleep immediately. Would it be wrong to use a few coins and take the bus home?
But no, he needed any coin he could possibly save for Alfred's medical bills.

His poor, poor Alfred.

Arthur decided to just sit on a nearby bench to rest his aching body if only just for a moment. He rubbed his eyes again, yawning a bit. Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a moment...
"Monsieur!"
A familiar voice. No, but it couldn't be. Arthur's eyelids flew open, only to find that the French man from the elevator was standing over him. He observed that the man now had a grey cat in his arms; the feline had a black leather collar with a golden colored bell attached to it.

"Pleased to see you again," the Frenchman purred. Arthur noticed that he also licked his lips before he started speaking. Strange. "Now, would you like a closer look at my invention?"
"What, that contraption? Buzz off, you wanker. That's total rubbish."
A look of hurt and shock flashed across his face, one Arthur had seen several times today, leaving him unphased. "Why, monsieur... But- but, I thought you..."
"I said buzz off."
Arthur then proceeded to jab his middle finger in the man's face; Francis, he remembered his name was. What was with the sudden irritability? "If you wish... But you have my card if you change your mind, no?"
He folded his arms across his chest, giving Francis a small nod.
And, with that, he walked away.

After what seemed like only moments of resting his eyes after recovering from the previous incident, Arthur heard singing. Christmas carols, to be exact. Great, he thought in exasperation. Surely they'll ask me for money, and- "Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer had a very shiny nose! And if you ever saw it, you could even say it glows..." His thoughts were interrupted by the loud outburst of the song Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. The carolers held out an empty tin soup can, practically begging him for money. Though Arthur didn't want to be the 'Ebenezer Scrooge' of the story, he couldn't bear to part with his precious coins. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I really am, but... My," he cut himself off, deciding to change his words up a bit. Not everyone was very welcoming to gays. "My... Girlfriend is ill in the hospital, and I need all the money I can scrape up. I'm sorry." The singing stopped as soon as he had started talking, but they all seemed to understand.

Beggars. Why always me? I should be the one begging. Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture of exhaustion.
When he opened his eyes again, the group disappeared. Thank God.
His eyelids grew heavy, and he didn't think he could keep his eyes open anymore. So, he curled up on the bench, and closed his eyes; he started to drift into the dark arms of sleep.

When he woke, he was still on the bench. It was pitch black outside, except for the few street lamps that were practically the only source of light. "Bloody hell," Arthur murmured sleepily, yawning and rubbing his eyes. "What time is it?" He asked to no one in particular.

The cold air stung at his bare skin, giving him a somewhat numb feeling. He attempted to get up, but felt like his whole body was frozen over.
Arthur slowly pried his frosty limbs from the bench, carefully getting to his feet. His back ached, and his head was pounding. "Damned weather," he growled under his breath.

As he started to walk along the sidewalk yet again, he noticed that the only source of light was coming from a nearby street lamp. It was dark. Very dark. He could barely even see his own two feet. The cold air wasn't making the situation any better. He was shivering so hard that he was certain if anyone were to see him, they would think he was having a seizure.
"Hello."
A voice from his left side.
Arthur gasped, whipping around and searching frantically for the source of the sound. "Who- who are you? Who is it?" He asked in a shaky tone. "It's me again."
Suddenly, from out of the shadows, the man appeared.

Francis.

"Dear God, don't scare me like that," Arthur breathed. If it was possible, he seemed to be trembling even harder now. "I'm very sorry. Ah... You look cold, no? Here." The Frenchman strode up to the other Arthur, placing an old patched-up shawl around his shoulders.
"Thank you," he managed to stutter out. "What are you doing out here so late?" And why do I keep running into you? This is about the third time within the last three hours.
Francis paused, contemplating his reply momentarily. "I could ask you the same question, monsieur."

"Well, I was just visiting my dying boy... Friend. My friend; and I haven't had a good night's sleep in about three months. I collapsed from exhaustion on that bench over there," he said matter-of-factly. Francis gave him a somewhat concerned look, cocking his head to the right. "I'm very sorry about that. Would you like me to walk you home?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. Was he really going to let some strange man he barely knew walk him to his house, then risk the possibility of him copying his address for later use?

Yes. What did he have to lose?