The late afternoon sun cast golden light over the French Quarter, making the cobblestone streets glow with warmth. Lyja pulled her jacket tighter against the cool breeze as she waited near the fountain at Jackson Square. Marcel had sent her a text that morning, inviting her to join him for a walk through the Quarter to "see the sights." She had been skeptical at first, but curiosity—and boredom—had convinced her to accept.
"You're right on time," Marcel said, appearing from around the corner with his usual confident grin. He was dressed casually, a leather jacket and jeans giving him an air of effortless charm.
Lyja smirked. "Figured if I didn't show, you'd just hunt me down."
"Probably," he teased, his grin widening. "Shall we?"
She nodded, falling into step beside him as they made their way down the bustling streets. The Quarter was alive with its usual energy—street performers entertaining tourists, the scent of beignets wafting from nearby cafés, and the sound of jazz spilling from open doors.
"So," Lyja said, breaking the silence, "what's the real reason for this walk? You don't strike me as the sightseeing type."
Marcel chuckled. "You caught me. I figured you've been here long enough, but you haven't really explored the Quarter. Thought it was about time someone gave you the proper tour."
"And you decided you're the best person for the job?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Who else?" he replied, flashing her a wink.
Their first stop was a small bookstore tucked away on a quiet street. The shop smelled of aged paper and incense, and the shelves were packed with everything from dusty tomes to glossy novels. Lyja couldn't help but be drawn to the section on local folklore and magic.
"Figured you'd like this place," Marcel said, leaning against the shelf as she flipped through a book on Creole witchcraft. "It's got that… witchy vibe."
Lyja snorted. "Because that's all I am? A walking stereotype?"
Marcel laughed. "No, but you've got a connection to this stuff. Thought it might feel familiar."
She glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. "Thanks. It's… nice. I'll have to come back when I have more time."
They left the bookstore and wandered further into the Quarter, stopping at a few more shops along the way. Marcel led her to a boutique filled with handmade jewelry, where Lyja found herself admiring a silver necklace with a crescent moon pendant.
"It suits you," Marcel said, watching as she held it up.
Lyja hesitated, then put it back. "Maybe next time."
Marcel raised an eyebrow but didn't push. Instead, he guided her toward a nearby café where they grabbed coffee and sat outside, watching the world go by.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the Quarter in hues of orange and pink, their conversation turned more personal.
"You seem… different tonight," Lyja said, sipping her coffee. "Less 'king of the Quarter,' more… human."
Marcel smirked, leaning back in his chair. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."
"Why did you really invite me out?" she pressed, her tone curious but not accusatory.
Marcel's smile faded slightly, and he looked at her with surprising honesty. "Because I like spending time with you. You're not like the others here—you're grounded, real. It's refreshing."
Lyja felt her cheeks flush but quickly masked it with a smirk. "Careful, Marcel. People might start thinking you're a nice guy."
"Can't have that," he teased, but his gaze softened. "Seriously, though. You're… different, Lyja. And I think this city needs people like you."
She wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she simply nodded, her heart feeling unexpectedly full. Marcel might be charming, but there was something genuine about him that made her want to trust him.
By the time they finished their walk, the Quarter was alive with its usual nighttime energy—music, laughter, and the hum of magic in the air. Marcel walked her back to the fountain where they had started, his hands in his pockets.
"Thanks for today," Lyja said, her voice sincere. "It was… fun."
Marcel grinned. "Told you I give a good tour."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. "Good night, Marcel."
"Good night, Lyja," he said, his tone warm. "Don't be a stranger."
As she walked away, Lyja couldn't shake the feeling that the Quarter had begun to feel a little more like home. And maybe—just maybe—that had something to do with the people she was starting to let in.