la mort est l'art

His response hit a nerve and the critic glared at the freakishly tall man, though he didn’t refuse when the stranger offered to take a look at him. Reluctantly he offered his right arm, and he could feel the dull throbbing on his wrist.

“It would take more than a cigarette or beer should there be damages sir, I need my hand for a living,” he remarked, the space between his brows still forming a crease. Gabriel knew that it would put a strain on his neck eventually but the critic refused to not look him in the eyes.

He held the arm delicately, but no real damage was done. “Barely a sprain. You’ll live.” Geri’s bedside manner left much to be desired, especially from his distracted and unenthusiastic tone. He shrugged as the man spat in anger and pulled out a cigarette. “Cigarette it is,” he said with it between his lips. He lit it, took a huff, and asked, “To calm the nerves?” The man seemed to need it more than he.

Feeling herself land backwards on something other than pavement, she let out a little yelp of surprise as she looked up at the man who just seconds ago she was sure was below him. With one arm hooked over his neck, she giggled as he brought her to her feet again, herself wobbling just a little to get her footing on her heels again. “Oh well wasn’t that a bit of fun though, hm?” Carmen rested her arm on the rather tall man’s shoulder, gazing at him with drunk eyes. “Do you make a habit of catching girls from mid-air, monsieur?”

“They don’t usually fall around me, I’m sorry to say,” he muttered as he looked her over. One might think he was checking out her body, when his mind was on any potential injuries. “You’re okay, right?” He honestly seemed to be more shaken up over the experience than the woman was. “I don’t make a habit of telling women what to do, but please be more careful? The streets of Paris are not padded, ma’am.”

Crossing one arm over the other in front of her, and honestly still fuming, she couldn’t help but point out his error, ‘’I think you and me have very different definitions of keeping one’s voice down then, but thank you fo doing so anyway I guess. I forgive you. And I’m sorry too.’’ Adding that last bit on last minute. She knew very well that perhaps she was coming across a bit aggressive too, just as he had earlier, but she’d never imagined anyone ever finding out, and especially not confronting her about it in the way that he had. Kasia had never considered God in her actions, instead she’d followed her instinct. Simply put, she was afraid. 

‘’I thought so, there’s a duality in everyone after all.’’ Kasia squinted her eyes for a second, when realization shined through her eyes as it suddenly dawned on her why he’d seemed so familiar. ‘’Of course, you’re Mrs.Durand’s son, you visit the church with your family don’t you?’’ How had she not noticed it before? She kind of felt bad now for her own behaviour, knowing how he and his family had suffered a loss recently. What must he be thinking of her? A woman of the church, acting out. Being ashamed herself, her gaze dropped for a moment, not really sure if she was brave enough to look him in the eye ever again. Or at least, for this conversation. 

The compliment however, did make her look up though, surprising her, ‘’..Thank you,’’ making her think that maybe he would keep her secret in the end. The invitation was the thing that made her believe for sure, that he didn’t intend to ,since apologies and compliments sure sounded nice, but held no real weight, that much she’d learned in her young life so far. Or maybe she was just naive. So she smiled, ‘’If I can, I usually have to be here pretty early, and get back to the Basilique pretty late, so only the scraps tend to be waiting for me.’’

“Uh, yeah. Geri Durand,” he gestured to himself. Why was she suddenly so abashed? He wasn’t complaining, but he had more reason than her to feel bad. She was defending herself, while he had verbally attacked a girl half his size (and half his age? Yikes). “Well if the church can’t feed you, I can.” He pulled out some spare cash, counted it, and offered it to her. “For your troubles. I came on a little strong. You don’t deserve it. You obviously work very hard at both your jobs.”

Really, Seb wasn’t even quite sure what to say - He was, for the most part, a man of so few words, and here was someone who seemed to be full to the brim with them. There was nothing to say, and while usually that was how he preferred it, now he felt he looked stupid, not quiet, but more at a loss for words. Instead, he just nodded at what felt like appropriate moments, as though he were fully following along, and equally as interested in what the man was saying as he was in the man’s handsome face, and the cat in his arms.

In response to the question, however, he simply shrugged, giving a mischievous, lopsided sort of a smile. “Afraid I can’t say. Promised her I’d never tell, you see.”

His eyes narrowed at the other, but being given a smile was better than a frown. “Very well. I would say thanks for looking after her, but as I have no idea what you two were up to, I’d rather not.” He put the cat down and let her scurry off. “What’s your name? Maybe I’ll put a sign that reads, ‘no cat burglars allowed’ on my home. You said yourself, not to trust anyone.” 

“Normal, my dear friend, is severely overrated,” Queenie replied, wiggling her eyebrows. As Geri continued to talk, a soft appreciative smile warmed the woman’s face. “A play on words and everything.” She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “If you ever do need to play pretend to keep her from bothering you about a wife, I’m always available.”

He shook his head, but the idea made his grin widen. “I know you are. Can’t promise the alcohol will be here next time you stop by though,” he gestured to the glass on the side table back in the other room. Geri leaned down and gave the woman a hug, whether for the company or presents he wasn’t sure, but it was warm. His arms wrapped down her back, reached to open the door, and then were back at his sides. “See? I knew you were fun without a body dragging behind ya. How can a comedienne not be? I’ll see you at a show ok? That beer’s on me, promise. Nice and cheap at Le Gnome?”

A crooked smile crinkled her face as the man sighed. “Honey, I’m pretty sure I’d spontaneously combust due to some higher power having a laugh if I even thought about stepping foot in a church.” She uncrossed her legs, standing up. “Engaged? Buy me dinner first, Geri, then we’ll talk ‘till death do us part’.” Queenie teased. “I’m not sure I’m what your poor mother would have in mind as a daughter-in-law.”

“’Higher power’?” He snorted, drink affecting his mind. “Dinner and a dance sounds about as normal as one can be. Which of course is not us.” They lethargically made their way to the front door, neither wanting to rush. “And you’re right, she wouldn’t suspect the real ‘queen’ underneath it all. She doesn’t know you like I do. A wild woman of the west.”

One could have asked Carmen what the hell she was doing perched upon a stone wall next to the Seine, but then again logic defied the woman once she had drunk quite as much as she had. It was a night off, and with the night off came free flowing alcohol, dancing with Anatole and forgetting about oneself just for a little while.

With arms outstretched like a gymnast, she steadied herself the best she could with her current muddled head. Turning her head quite suddenly, she found the voice and shook her head quite dramatically. Gesturing with her hand as she spoke.

“Perhaps not, monsieur, but the world looks so much nicer from up-” And with that she was cut off with a her momentarily losing her balance which caused a domino effect in her limbs. Suddenly she was falling quite spectacularly with a yelp, arms flailing out.

It was instinct rather than skill, really. Two years in enemy territory, looking over his shoulder and keeping the safety of his fellow brothers-at-arms a priority; when the woman toppled he neared, quickening his pace and suddenly he was underneath her, watching in slow motion as she plummeted directly into his arms. The force of her fall made him teeter on his feet, but they were both unharmed. “Please don’t do that again,” he huffed. “For either of our sakes.” He slowly brought her feet-first to the pavement, and realized how close she had come to getting concussed.