Chapter 3: Our Friends in Paris
The light pitter patter of rain thrums in the background as a figure in a dark coat meanders through the streets of Paris. And by meandering, he is jumping from rooftop to rooftop carrying an object shielded from the water with a cloth. He finally hops down into an alleyway, up the steps and rings a bell of a doorway, signaling the woman inside of his arrival. The door swings open, a young woman in a white dress and angel wings looks at him with a scolding look, but steps aside to let him through. Francoeur sheds his coat to go dress for the night's performance while giving Lucille an apology chirp and smile. He unwraps the cloth to give to her, asking silently with the gesture if she could deliver this to their dear friend.
She rolls her eyes, "Well, you've gone through A-LL that trouble for him, without him even asking too, making us late. Now, let's see if it was REally worth it," she finishes and snatches the item from his grasp. He chirps at her in warning to be careful with it, looks at her apologetically once more and goes into his dressing room. She sighs then makes her way to the dinning area.
In the back, two men are seated at a table with various metallic objects and papers littering the surface. The tall, beanpole man fiddles with the tools and a metal box that sits comfortably in the palm of his hand; meanwhile, his shorter companion looks frantically from paper to paper with a notepad at the ready. When the two men notice Lucille's presence, they both put down their work and greet her.
She hums in response, "Raoul, it seems someone HAS been paying attention to your insufferable complaining about finding those parts for Catherine." She gently hands him the part and he grins excitedly.
"Alright! That only leaves, what, like 14 more things on my list. We will be conquering these streets again in no time. Say thanks to the big guy for me, I'll be sure to catch him after the show."
"Of course," she replies curtly and leaves immediately without so much as a second glance. The two men look at each other questioningly and Emile asks, "She's…upset?"
"Yeah."
"But why?"
"No idea."
"Hmmm."
"Oh, you've got your thinking face on, figure it out?"
"Maybe."
"Well? Out with it man."
"The show was supposed to start ten minutes ago, right? But I haven't seen Francoeur anywhere. He was probably out getting you that piece without telling Lucille. She's not mad at you exactly, just the thing and why it's here."
Raoul grasps his chin in his hands and thinks over his friend's theory. He then lays back with a sigh and responds, "Yeah, Francoeur has a habit of doing nice things at wrong times. No way she'll be upset over this for long; although, we're going to have to have a talk with him about this soon enough." Both men take a moment to relax from their work before diving back in, but with less fever than before.
"Raoul?"
"Yeah man?"
"Do you think he'll be okay for the trip?" Raoul pauses to look at his companion, "I mean that, if he's adjusted to his new life that he won't be stressed or uncomfortable and y'know get into trouble? On accident of course!" Emile looks down at the end of his fumbling inquiry in shame for even doubting their friend.
Raoul smiles warmly and leans forward, "Hey," Emile looks up, "he'll be fine. He's got us: the caring, fierce mama bear, Lucille; a dashing inventor with the greatest people skills in all of Paris; sweet Maud with her soft voice and amazing stories; and the most caring, smartest, little filmmaker." He pointedly looks to Emile at the last part, making him feel better about the whole thing.
"Yes, we're here for him like he's here for us." The lights go down as the curtains on stage are pulled out. The show starts with Francoeur doing a solo bit on the guitar. His favorite, the one that helped start this new life. The two men put off their work to enjoy their friend's performance. One still holds doubts in his heart even as he watches Francoeur play with such delicacy and precision. Will the four of them really be able to control such a large creature? What if it's not about physical control, what if they can't help him understand something like humans do and he breaks down? Will they lose him again? He quickly excuses himself to get some air before his concern shows on his face. Outside, the air is a refreshing splash of cold on his clammy skin. It's quiet out, as if the world has come to a stop for the small man to relax and collect his thoughts. He knows deep down that he was only picking on Francoeur because he was afraid and wanted to back out of the trip altogether. But he could do this, it was time for his life to change for the better, hopefully. Steeling himself, Emile smooths out his coat and returns to the table. Reassurances float through his mind, giving him confidence. He is going to do this, no excuses. He was going to put his heart on the line and hope it'll reel in happiness. It was time he proposed to Maud, properly, like in both of their dreams.