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Afterwards we stroll along the Seine. How odd. She is apparently terrified by the sight of the moon. I suspect she needs sleep. Big yawn. |
Afterwards, we have a late supper. Tasty. I check my timer. She has about ten hours left. We still have some time to kill. Ooh. Poorly put. |
A simple one-two-three box step. Like the moves you have to make when fighting a giant crab. This is a bit more fun, and with less hitting. |
Eventually we damage enough of the other dancers that in self defense, the band switches to a waltz. An empty space opens around us. Smart. |
She picks it up pretty quickly, once I tell her that we're not Supposed to careen into other dancers. For the first time, I see her laugh. |
Back in the old hometown, we were more partial to the cod-slapping dance, but anyone in superb physical condition with no shame can polka. |
I search and soon find a polka hall. I explain that a polka is not so much dancing, as it is running around sideways to music. She's game. |
She seems particularly interested in the dance halls. Othar Tryggvassen is many things, but a good dancer isn't one of them. But so what? |
We wander over to the Latin Quarter. She seems equally fascinated and scared of the crowds and is constantly amazed that they ignore her. |
She says that she would like to live somewhere in the sun, where she can watch things grow. Touching. She'll need some serious sunscreen. |
I answer honestly that after tomorrow, The Master will lose all interest in her, and as long as she doesn't threaten Paris, can do whatever. |
We relax. Again I ask what she'd like to do. She looks me in the eye and asks what The Master has planned for her. This could be awkward. |
We've been wandering around for several hours and she's looking a bit glassy eyed. I find us a quiet little bistro and order us some wine. |
She eats two pieces and then says that's enough. I am in the presence of a person with an iron will. She does tuck the rest into her pocket. |
I hesitate to give her anymore to drink. I know what she needs, and on a side street, I find it. As I thought, she's never had chocolate. |
Whatever the Geisters are doing, she doesn't have to go back, if she doesn't want to. She considers this. Oh great. Now she's crying again. |
It turns out that she has been trapped in Paris for at least six years. There hasn't been a lot of news about them. Which is quite normal. |
She seems calmer. We leave and stroll along the river. I ask her what she'll do if I free her. She asks if there are still other Giesters. |
She bows her head and seems to pray. Don't go in for it, m'self. Once a Hero believes he has a higher power on his side, he gets sloppy. |
It's the smell that affects her first. It's like being in a limestone cave. Do Giesters live in caves? It would explain a lot about them. |
