(Thank you to Steve's and Lirssa's players - scene opener adapted from live play.)

Raza made a wide arc from the dining room into the living room. He and the dog skidded to a stop in front of the man sitting on the sofa. Very solemnly, the toddler held a red and blue-striped rubber ball out to the stranger. It was pricked with Dante's gentle teeth-marks and deeper with Raza's. It was wet in spots with spit.

Sharp blue eyes flickered from Fionna to Raza and the dog, those brows of his arching as he considered what was being silently asked of him. Moments later Steve was taking up the ball gingerly and tossing it back down the hallway. It bounced in perfect, measured arches as it went, unusual for a toy of its make. The child and his dog launched after it.

Steve had been uncharacteristically silent and straight-faced since his arrival. It had taken the governor no small amount of effort, when her pitch was made a week ago, to convince the machinist to tag along on the trip with her family, playing the part of bodyguard. Mere hours from their departure, the machinist's blonde brows knit thoughtfully and his eyes flickered from detail to detail before finally falling to rest upon her.

She watched him with her son, her eyes shuttered. "The research concierge at Stars End called me yesterday," she murmured as the ball bounced past her and the boy and dog went scrambling.

"Let me guess," he intoned dryly. "My requisition for a Kevlar-lined jacket wasn't approved." The whole ordeal was taking the machinist far outside of his comfort zone and the fact that his behavior went from his typical surly amusement to something so dry, was telling. Blue eyes abandoned the boy, dog, and ball to lift to her pale face.

"No, I think they can make the clothes out of anything. Your suit is with the rest of our things in my closet." Raza babbled something at Dante in Arabic, and a squeal of laughter followed a sharp, high bark. She glanced after the pair, before resuming. ?They're concerned about the appearance of all of us traveling together and wanted to make sure we had a story consistent with appearances."

"I'm sure ladies like you had security, right?" One blonde brow arched, but something scratching at the back of his mind told him he wouldn't like where this was going.

"In Vieux-Sainte-Genevieve? No." He got a smile, at least. "But they think I look too young to be Lirssa?s and Rekah's maman. And you and I need to be related somehow. Since Raza does not look like you, they suggested that I am perhaps a widow, traveling with my infant son, my two sisters, the fianc? of one of the girls, and - to be respectable? Perhaps my brother? My cousin?"

"I don't look nothin' like none of you." It was hard to tell if he was being disagreeable or just trying to make a good point.

"You look enough like Lirssa for it to be possible."

"Didn't have chaperones there either, huh?" For all of his off-color humor and penchant for the low road, there was something that made him highly uncomfortable about being implied as a relation.

?Not unrelated chaperones, no. You could be Lirssa's tutor, if you prefer."

"Tutor in what?" One blonde brow arched and Steve shifted slowly in his seat. Hawkish blue eyes studied her face as they threw ideas and questions back and forth. "Machinin'? Toolin'? Monster-slayin'?"

Raza came running back around the other hallway, followed by the skittering of Dante's toenails. He went running for Steve again and threw his arms around his leg. Laughing and breathless, it sounded like he said "Save me!" From the dog, apparently, who had a mouth full of ball.

Blinking and sparing another look towards the governor, he finally reached down and caught the boy by the back of his shirt. He was lifted effortlessly out of the dog's reach. The boy squealed and laughed, throwing his arms out like he was flying and kicking his legs. The dog's tail was a scythe, whipping back and forth. Fionna fanned her fingers across her mouth.

"Hey, watch the feet, little fella." A little boy-sized shoe nearly caught the machinist in the neck, prompting a shift of Raza's position. He shot the governor a withering look. After a few moments, her son was returned to his feet and Dante's not-so-tender mercies.

She wisely didn't comment. As Raza ran off again, Dante after him, she pushed away from the wall and ambled toward Steve.

"We can say you work for us, but with you unmarried and me ?widowed,? and Jasper and Rekah engaged... traveling alone without a male relative will look improper, they think. Tell me what we should do."

As much as he wanted to, Steve couldn't argue her logic. And that made the machinist all the crankier. "Look," he groused. "I'm sure you guys can pass me off as a brother or cousin or somethin'. Just doesn't mean I've gotta like it, right?"

"No. She took a breath. "You do not have to like it."

"So, I won't like it, but that don't meant I'm not gonna see this through. Someone's gotta keep you out of whatever crazy this place has to offer."

She reached for his hand as she came around the couch to face him, much as her son had. Despite the boy?s sudden quiet, she seemed unconcerned. ?The girls and Jasper know that you're security." Perhaps that would reassure him. "They'll know that our relationship is a cover, cousin Stefan."

"Sweetheart," he stared up at her without disturbing himself to rise, "I don't rightly care who knows about us. But I understand what sorta complications could arise from the knowledge." Those broad shoulders of his lifted in a shrug. "We'll do what we gotta."

She nodded, squeezing his hand. She took a breath to say something - cut off when she heard Lirssa coming in the door. Raza heard her, too, and he and Dante came barreling down from the back of the hall. Both were wearing things they'd found in Lirssa's hamper during their quiet five minutes. She released his hand, flexing her fingers and turning a smile to the door. "Good! You're home."

She was full of the smells of High Spires; that not only included home-baked bread and fresh cut grass, but a dash of the sour milk smell of spit up and sticky-sweet of small, happy hands working outside. "Gah, I could use a shower." First words muttered in anticipation of the very deed as she trotted inside from the stairwell.

Lirssa's entrance did little to deter Steve?s casual lounge. He was content to remain silent as mother and daughter shared a greeting. The machinist let his hawkish blue gaze flick from one face to the other.

Lirssa braced for impact, arms open wide to grab up her little brother and pull the motley leggings off his head as she lifted him in her arms. "Those are not elephant ears, silly."

She rubbed her nose against his and then set him free and flashed up a smile to Fionna. "Yeah. Sorry about that. The garden weeding took a little bit longer than I thought. I'll just go wash up, yeah?" She pointed to the necessary room down the hall.

"Clean up and catch your breath. We'll eat when Rekah and Jasper get here, and then we need to get ready to go." She moved to give Lir a one-armed hug. "You may want to get your underpants off of the dog, Etoile," she whispered, rolling her lips in to squelch an amused chuckle.

Lirssa smirked and looked over at Dante, and whispered back. "I don't know. They may be some sort of protection." She gave a little chuckle as she did just as suggested, snatching the undergarments from the dog and tucking it under her arm.

Fionna continued in a whisper, nodding toward the couch. "I'll introduce you when you come back. That is Stefan."

Lirssa bobbed her head at him as she started down the hall and it was met with a lift of the man?s bearded chin, his mouth quirked in a surly smile. Nostrils flared in a soundless snort for little Sir Raza's vestments and the barding he'd so meticulously put Dante in. Blue eyes followed the girl?s retreat to wash up for a fraction of a few heartbeats before returning to Fionna. "What's on the menu for tonight?"

"Chicken and dumplings, salad, bread, grapes and cheese." It was an easy meal. Something the children would eat and Nissa's clan would take the leftovers when they came by to take care of the animals. She rubbed her hands together and glanced over her shoulder at him, halfway between the door and where he sat. "I am not much of a cook," the admission came with a wry smile and an apologetic tilt of her head. "I've been learning, but my repertoire's limited."

"Yeah, well, it ain't like I'm some culinary genius either. But then again, I don't think it would shock a damned soul to discover that I'm one of the few guys who can screw up Easy-Mac, so..." His nostrils flared with another snort, but his lack of concern over the meal was genuine. So was his amusement as the conversation diverted into the precise nature of Easy-Mac. The governor was baffled.

When Lirssa returned, Fionna was setting the table, and Raza was already in his highchair. She'd started him on his food to settle him down. Dante had been relegated to his pillow under the piano. They were still waiting on Rekah and Jasper to arrive, but she wasn't concerned yet.

Strawberry-blonde hair was done up in a purple towel. Despite that one informality, Lir had opted to don her traveling clothes: proper layers of garments expected of a young lady at their destination. Fionna took a second look at her daughter, her mouth twitching briefly in surprise. It was one thing to see the things on their hangers, another to see her wearing the dress and stockings. A flash of memory had her holding her breath.

She had to shake it off to make the introductions. "Lirssa, this is Stefan, the one I told you about who would be joining us. Stefan, my daughter, Lirssa."

Lirssa strode over to Stefan and held out a hand in greeting. "Hello, sir."

He grimaced for Fionna's penchant for playfully butchering his name and gave her a pointedly surly look for introducing him that way. "You can call me Steve, kid. Steeeeve." His weathered hand curled around hers for a firm shake. "And nice meetin' you. Anyone who can put up with havin' Her Miss Ladyship here for a mom is a pretty tough cookie in my book."

She snickered and flexed her arms in jest at the comment. "Could switch that all about, too. She's a tough cookie for havin? me around as a kid. Though, I reckon just livin? 'round these parts, ya gotta be a bit tough, leastways someone's gonna try to chew ya. You come from 'round here or elsewhere?" She asked as she wandered into the dining room to help Fionna set the table.

"Yeah, this place can be a real b*tch if you step wrong." The machinist's smile widened a fraction, nearly visceral, before the question drew an indifferent shrug of his shoulders. "Elsewhere, originally. Been here long enough to be used to it, though." For the time being, he seemed content with his perch on the couch.

Lirssa nodded to his answer. The twist of her mouth one way then another was a clear sign she was thinking, processing, and analyzing with each glance. "You looking forward to the trip?"

Fionna laughed outright at the question, but she didn't answer for him. The chicken and dumplings came steaming out in a deep, oblong platter. The bread on the table was a crusty cottage loaf from a local baker, and the butter on the table beside it was butter. A leafy green salad with a French dressing on the side sat next to a plate of green grapes and mellow yellow semi-soft cheese. Raza was finishing his first helping, and she scooped out a bit more onto a plate to cool for him. He ate with both hands, as a toddler did, kicking his feet contentedly against the rails of his chair and oblivious to the cause for Fio's mirth.

"Just doin' it as a favor to your mom," Steve shrugged. "Ain't left Rhy'din since I got here years ago. Never been inclined to set foot anywhere else until now." He finally pushed to his feet and stretched, panning a look between Lir and Fi before folding his arms across the broad expanse of his chest. "But it sounds like somethin' the rest of you will enjoy."

"Yes, well, do me another favor, both of you, and come and eat," she beckoned him over with the spoon she'd used to scoop out Raza's helping. The boy could eat. "I need to tell you what I found out last night, Lirssa. I'd hoped Rekah and Jasper would be here, but we will fill them in."

"Right-o." Lirssa sat down at the table, her mouth twisting again. Fionna's announcement derailed her growing imagining of reasons for such a favor. She finally removed the towel from her head and the long strawberry blond curls plopped down, free and wild about her shoulders.

"The man at the port authority office says he believes we have to be careful about how we present ourselves. He said I look too young to be your maman, or Rekah's and suggested that we tell people you and Rekah are my younger sisters. What do you think?" She started the food around the table.

Steve panned another look between the pair as he dragged out a chair.

The girl giggled and nodded. "Does that mean I can call you Fifi?" She did not even wait for the answer to that one, because she doubted she could ever say it with a straight face. Instead, she got her giggles under control and asked, "So, who are, or were, our parents? Yours?"

Fio checked Raza's noodles with a finger, and spread it out a bit more with her fork to let the air get to it. While he waited, she gave him some grapes. "Yes, but we cannot use my surname. They would know it, in that village. So, you two," she looked between Lir and Steve, "pick one you will both remember. Stefan, are you going to be my brother or cousin?"

"Alter-egos ain't exactly my forte. What're some common French surnames?" A weathered hand rose to scratch along his bearded jaw. "Or do we even wanna try to pass ourselves off as French, seein' as how I don't speak a lick of the tongue?"

"My father was Amerikan. I think it is best to stick with that. His name was George," she added, licking her finger again and scooping some noodles onto Raza's tray with her spoon.

"Which might make sense if he's a cousin. He can be a cousin spent time elsewhere and came to join us on holiday...or whatever it would be."

"Either would work. And since I will be the recent widow of an Egyptian professor who I met in Yorke..."

Lirssa paused her eating and shared a small, understanding smile with Fionna.

"Whatever we come up with, I'll remember." The machinist shrugged. "So I ain't got a preference. Feasibly, it seems more likely your brother would be travelin' with you than your cousin."

"Well," Lirssa started and then just came out with it. "Only problem with that is, iffin you?re her brother, and I'm supposed to be her sister, then I'm your sister, too, and, mister, I don't know ya that well. I mean...do you like chess or checkers? Coffee or tea? Do you snore? I mean, I guess we could say I was in boarding school or the like and so, I don't know if my brother likes coffee or tea since last I saw him I was in pigtails." She looked from one to the other for advice on how to handle it.

?There?s enough of an age difference that he might have been the one off at school while you were in pigtails,? Fionna countered. ?And we have enough time that you could just quiz him now. I?m sure that would be immensely entertaining for all of us.? She hid a smile as she filled her plate.

=====================================
Le Chateau d?Agnacs
Vieux Sainte-Genevieve

The car pulled slowly around to the back of the chateau, tires crunching on the loose gravel. Sunlight slanted through the bows of the overgrown mulberry grove, casting purple shadows over the grounds. It would be dark soon. While the agent had sent a messenger telling him to expect her this evening, it was much later than he had been anticipating.

Joseph Moreau squinted into the blinding slash of sun, watching as the car rolled to a stop with a sour expression. The driver, one of the lads from the village below, hopped out of the car and loped around to open the door for her. He looked too eager. Probably glad the drive wasn't longer. Joseph adjusted his grip on his walking stick, waiting impatiently. His hip pained him more every day. Too old to stand around like this.

The woman working her matronly girth out of the car looked, if possible, happier than the young driver to be done with the journey. Iron grey hair was pulled back into a simple and unmoving bun, her clothing simple, drab gray and functional. Finally getting to her feet on solid ground, she swept off her skirts and then moved forward briskly toward the man that waited. "Monsieur Moreau?"

"You are Madame Roux?" He limped forward, flapping a hand at the driver - Rene Bouche's son, he thought - to get her cases from the trunk and carry them in. "Monsieur Fournier said that you would be here earlier."

She sniffed. "Had I not been waiting for nearly an hour for this young fool, I assure you I would have been on time. There is no time for dawdling when there is much to be done."

?He had a couple of girls up from the village this week to take the cloths off of the furniture, and to do the heavier cleaning, but there's still enough. You'll want to let me know in the morning what you want sent up from the butcher and the green grocer when the lad's here."

Berta Roux gave a curt nod. "I will have a list written as soon as I have settled. Will I be allowed to take a look around or will you want to send someone to accompany me?" Sometimes in big places like this there were places one should not go, secrets that were kept behind wall or stairwell, and she had no interest in coming upon one.

?No one to accompany you, but me,? he answered gruffly. ?Look all you want, but wait until daylight. Not all of the rooms are wired. The tenants arrive tomorrow night.? He turned and hobbled toward the kitchen door. ?I?ll show you your room.?

=====================================

Cafe Le Coq
Vieux Sainte-Genevieve

He gave one last, vicious thrust and roared satisfaction into the close air of the little room above the cafe, before he let his weight crash down onto her, pinning her against the mattress. He panted into the pillow, turning his face away from hers as he came down from it.

The clock on the dresser read 4:37. He sighed and pushed himself up and away dispassionately, swinging his legs around to sit on the edge of the bed and catch his breath.

"I have to go. I have a call from that Am?rikain lawyer at 5:30." He rubbed a hand over his face and glanced back at her, briefly.

As soon as he had moved from atop her, Gislaine stretched luxuriously, fingers and toes pointed toward either end of the room. Always such a shame when a tryst came to an end. She didn't speak until she turned onto one side, propping her head up with a hand. "Again with the lawyers?" Eyes sat on him as he perched on the edge of the bed, only a moment away from standing to find his clothing, she imagined.

"You sound like you don't care anymore. You're not giving up on your claim to the estate? Gislaine, we talked about this." He took a deep breath, pushing his irritation back with an effort.

"I care! I do," she said, sitting up more and reaching out to touch his shoulder, her voice now soothing. "I just don't see why it is taking so long." She was a business woman, she understood the need for time, to make sure things were done correctly, but she did not know the way of lawyers. "I deserve my share, I'm not giving up."

"Then start acting like you want it and take this seriously," he snapped standing and sweeping an arm down to pick up his pants. "I'm doing this for us- for you - and I need to know you're in this with me."

She frowned, sitting up fully and taking his place at the edge of the bed before standing. She ignored the dress and underclothes that littered the floor, padding over to wrap her arms about him from behind, kissing the back of his shoulder. "Don't be angry with me. I'm sorry; you know I am impatient at times. Of course I am with you. It will belong to us, as it should."

"I need to go." he jerked his shoulder, as if she were an annoying fly. "Nothing is going to belong to us if I miss this call. The Amerikaine b*tch that hired that firm has already leased the place to a family on holiday. They arrive tomorrow."

=====================================

Alleyway in Paris, France
Alternate Terran Designate T00452-1

"...Three." They squeezed, and the universe upended itself. It was like falling through darkness, like traveling the Veil with Ali, but worse. There was no sense of up or down. Just a blink of black, and a lurch of the stomach, and then they were there, on the other side of that impossible tunnel, before they could even exhale.

They emerged in what looked like a narrow alcove in a dead end alley in fin-de-si?cle Paris. The streets and buildings were impossibly old in that quarter, dating centuries back. It was early spring, damp and still a little brisk, and late enough that lamplighters were at work.

Overhead, a strange thrumming noise reverberated gently, the beating blades of an enormous zeppelin drifting over the city. From the end of the alley the bustle of horses, gyro-powered cars, bicycle bells, runners. The air was smoky from coal and wood fires, and factory smoke. Fionna had Raza clutched to her tightly, white around her lips. She looked left and right to reassure herself that Rekah and Lirssa were still there.

They were, Rekah all smiled and Lirssa wide-eyed and drinking it in. She looked as if her mind was two steps behind everything she saw -- there and not there.

It was all certainly real enough.

Fionna exhaled again, relief. And nerves. "Well. Not so bad." And the luggage was there, too, the cart transformed into the sort of wrought-iron trolley that could be found anywhere in the Paris train stations. "If they told us true, we turn left at the mouth of the alley and the train station should be a few blocks ahead."

"Was that what it was like on the way over? Geesh, glad I was born there." Lirssa grinned and blithely started ahead, Rekah in tow.

"Nothing like it," she blinked, thinking about it. "Come on," she said a little brusquely, handing Raza to Lirssa so she could help Rekah pull the cart away from the wall. Such a strong memory now, and nothing she'd thought about in detail in years. The night she'd died.

"Come on, nephew." Lirssa giggled and snuggled on Raza, and then she checked to make sure he was all in order, as he had a tendency to start undoing buttons and ties and such.

Rekah grabbed onto the luggage cart and started forward. "Where are we going first?"

The end of the alley opening up to the street was lighter than the long shadows they emerged from. The three women and the toddler stood silhouetted in the yellow glow of the gas lamps, as Fionna took her first look at Paris in... how many years? Nothing had changed. It was as busy - busier - than the RhyDin marketplace on a Saturday night. Familiar and not. The sheer life of the place took her breath away. They were on the Gare Saint Lazare, not far from the station at all. She'd been there as a child many times, between tours, visiting her gran-mere.

"We are going to get our train tickets, and then we should be able to get something for you to eat in the dining car," she told Rekah with shock-inspired quiet. ?Stay close.?

Staying close was not particularly one of Lirssa's strong suits since regaining mobility, but Raza was a sufficient tether. So, when Fionna paused, it took only a few extra steps for Lirssa to do the same. Rekah was a mute shadow, trying to look at everything at once.

-----------
(Adapted from live play with Lirssa and Rekah, with thanks!)

Train ?clair de luxe, Express du Nord
Paris-Bruxelles route, via Champagne-Ardennes

The train was the last little bit of real luxury they would enjoy before they reached Vieux-Sainte-Genevieve. Immaculately appointed, fully staffed, the line catered to two continents, and the French line of the Express was particularly fastidious about service and cuisine.

"Go and get something to eat. I need to see if he will sleep," she suggested, wrangling with a cranky Raza. The three of them stood in the narrow space between the bunks in Fionna?s compartment. A small sitting area outside separated her cabin and the one Lirssa and Rekah would be sharing, but they had all crowded into her room instead. Steve had taken one look at that from the hallway and bailed with a twist of his mouth and a toss of a hand. No thank you, Your Miss Ladyship. He disappeared into his cabin across the hall with a firm close of his door. Now, she held hers open with the jut of her hip and ushered them out, the boy in her arms red-faced and grunting to get down. "Tell them your compartment number and they will see me about the charges before we leave."

Rekah eyed Fio, then Lirssa as a grin grew. Food. And they were being given run of the train which was even better. "I'm getting a waffle." That was a promise.

Fionna bounced Raza in her arms. ?I would expect no less after declarations of syrup. The waffles here are worth having, undoubtedly. Have fun. It is five cars down that direction," she pointed to the end of their car and the door there with a jerk of her chin. ?If you get lost, ask a conductor."

"I wonder what their waffles look like." As if waffles elsewhere might have a different idea of the food item than she. "I wonder what it all looks like." Lirssa?s steps were quick, heel-toe, squeezing out the door and starting down the aisle towards the indicated car with grinning glances to Rekah.

"As long as it doesn't talk or move, I'm eating it." Rekah was less graceful than her acrobatic sister, bouncing with her footsteps as they headed to the dinner car. She kept grinning, even as her stomach rumbled. "I'm starving."

?You?re always starving.?

The cars between them and the dining car were full tonight. They passed through another sleeper, like theirs, and two long cars with rows of cushioned benches and swaying, sleepy passengers before they got to the first dining car. Beyond that was another, and beyond that, a bar. Employees of the line in meticulously white jackets and crisp black pants worked among the tables, filling glasses of water or wine, bringing domed, silver trays laden with food. Lirssa came to a slow stop and surveyed the arrangement. "I guess there's a menu or something. Do you think the next car has different stuff, or should we just start here and work our way through?"
The ma?tre?d solved the dilemma by approaching them then. "Mademoiselles? Would you care to be seated?" He spoke first in French.

Rekah looked to Lirssa to fend the question, who nodded nervously, replying with a less than perfect accent. "Yes, please."

The man smiled knowingly at the accent, and if he was a bit smug, he was at the least, kind. "You are not French?" he asked, trying this time en Anglais.

"Non." Rekah could figure that one out. She planted one hand on her hip and slung the other around Lirssa's shoulders.

Rekah's support, and the guy speaking in English, eased Lirssa immensely and she just grinned at the guy feeling no other words need to be shared. Besides, she did not want to delay in any way Rekah getting food. It was the goal since the zip-travel.

"I will send a waiter who speaks your Anglais," he told them as he picked up two menus and led them down the narrow aisle between the booths and tables to a spot about midway in. "Does this suit?"
As long as they could put food in front of her it was suitable from Rekah?s perspective. She looked to Lirssa. "Work for you?"

Lirssa almost gave two thumbs up, but instead nodded. "Yes," and plopped down in a chair, only to think a heartbeat later that she may have needed to wait for her chair to be pulled. Her eyes widened a little up at the ma?tre?d, and then looked to the window to see if she could catch sight of anything interesting.

She was disappointed. The countryside beyond the windows was black as pitch. They were moving at a steady pace, eating up the miles. Before long, those miles would be uphill and full of switchbacks, moving more slowly. But until sunrise, they were all a smear of dark and shadows.

Rekah dropped into the seat across the table from Lirssa and took a look around the car. "I hope the menu is in English."

"Or it has pictures. I'm not so good on French food names....except I don't want anything that has 'foie gras' listed. How are we paying for this?" Lirssa had either been too distracted by being on the train or had forgotten to ask.

The menu was in French, as it turned out, but the waiter who arrived on the other man's heels was willing to translate, if necessary. "Ladies, a pleasure to have you on board tonight." If he heard Lirssa's question for Rekah, he was polite enough not to throw them out of the car. Yet.

"We tell them...Whatever our car number is?I don't know it. I hope you do." She squinted up at the waiter. "I want a waffle."

Lirssa pulled out the compartment key hoping it would have the number on it, and it did. "Oh, here it is." She grinned at the waiter. "May I have some juice -- something tasty and unusual -- like a blend of juices, if that's okay. Or, just apple. And...Do you have steak?" Lirssa rarely ate just steak, but she was feeling particularly carnivorous.

"And I want strawberries and whipped cream! And sparkling cider." Rekah kept adding on to her order, never mind the menu. She was on a mission.

"Oui," his temperament improved greatly upon seeing the key to their compartment. "Waffles, strawberries and cream, cider and juice, a steak. How would you like your steak prepared? And we have some lovely escalloped potatoes and new asparagus tonight, as well."

"Not bleeding -- pink in the middle?" She had learned from other professional steak eaters to never use terms but describe what she wanted to the steak to look like. "And yes, the potatoes and asparagus and....an orange." A beat as she considered, nodded again, and added, "and some syrup for the waffles, please." Just in case, wanted to be sure that got to the table, too. Actually, whether the syrup would be used for the waffles, she was not exactly certain, but it sounded better than on a steak -- though when she thought about it, it might not be bad either.

"Of course, ladies. Anything else?" he was jotting all of this down in an elegant little order book as they threw out their ideas for the meal.

Lirssa raised a brow raise toward Rekah; she left that question to her.

"And some crepes." She added that in, just because they were all speaking French.

"A waffle and... some crepes...." he paused to glance at her, to ensure she was serious, before adding it to the other items. She was. She did not look like the sort of woman to jest about her belly. "Of course, mademoiselle. Your food will be here shortly." He nodded, almost clicked his heels, and pivoted to head for the kitchen, beyond the bar.

From the other end of the car, one of the conductors, in his blue suit with shiny rows of gold buttons, was speaking quietly with the ma?tre?d, and staring absently at their table as he listened.

Lirssa looked around the car, back out into the dark of the scenery going by, and around the car once more. "You know what's weird?" She whispered to Rekah. The conductor was still staring, a vague wrinkle of a frown on his face.

"No. What's that?" She whispered back from behind her hand.

"The distinct lack of obvious weaponry." Her grin was a little lopsided. Growing up in RhyDin -- well, weaponry was almost part of an outfit.

"Huh." That had her taking another look around. "Maybe they keep their weapons up their sleeves."

The conductor approached the table after a few more quiet words. "Ladies," he stretched a cool smile to them when he arrived at the table, making it look like a casual pause on his way toward the other door. "I trust you are enjoying your travels with us, so far?"

The smile, cool as it was, made Lirssa wary, but she answered with a simple, "Yes, thank you. It is a very fine train."

Rekah?s brow inched upwards as the man inquired about their trip. "Sure. It's nice enough." She had no idea.

"We are exceptionally proud of the Express. It is the jewel of Europe and Asia," he informed them pleasantly. Two rows of buttons glittered on his coat, as did a gold nameplate above his badge. It read, 'M. Blanc'.

"Oh? What makes it so special?" Rekah demanded, squinting at him now.

"We are the premiere train service throughout both continents. Only the finest of society travel with us, and our service and facilities aboard train are... impeccable." His blue eyes were a little shaper now as they fixed upon Rekah at the question.

"Huh. " Ever eloquent, Rekah glanced around her as if searching to see what made this train stand apart. ?Looks like a train to me.?

"Would you like a chocolate?" he asked her, producing a wrapped sweet from his jacket pocket.

"Oui!" She was a sucker for candy.

He handed her the chocolate and placed one on the table for Lirssa.

Lirssa didn?t take it. There was something about the man that got her back up. "Well then, we hope you live up to the reputation, which I suppose includes timely dinner service without undue interruptions." She pulled out vocabulary from play speeches.

The pause before he replied was decidedly chillier, though his expression remained pleasant. "Of course, my dear lady. Enjoy your dinner. Pleasant travels." He looked at her a little too pointedly for a moment, as if he expected to see something else, then curled another smile and left them alone, passing their waiter, and the cart bearing their food, on his way.

The food was adequate distraction. Rekah?s eyes went wide as saucers. "Oh, it looks delicious!" There were lovely crepes with a creamy filling speckled with lemon zest and dusted in powdered sugar. The waffle was as big as the plate it came on, covered with strawberries and real whipped cream. Lirssa?s filet mignon was as tall as it was wide, medium rare with all of the trimmings. Scattered in the spaces between, there were tall glasses of juice and a crystal carafe of water, plates of butter and a silver basket of fresh rolls wrapped in crisp white napkins, and lest it be forgotten, a small ewer of syrup. It was a prodigious feast and it all smelled utterly wonderful. Whatever unpleasant feelings the conductor?s visit sparked were erased in an instant by the sight of it for the two hungry young women.

At the end of the car, M. Blanc stood in the traverse space, watching through the glass.

"Let's save the chocolates for later." Lirssa finally tucked hers in a pocket.

"Midnight snack!"

The food kept them busy for a few moments until Rekah, cutting her waffle into neat little squares, glanced up and spotted the conductor again, blurred with the reflection of candlelight on the glass. She hesitated, but he stepped back into the shadows of the connecting car. Perhaps he had moved on.

It broke the spell. She heard again the clink of cutlery on customer Express china and the chime of glasses that joined with the murmur of other guests as they ate. Candlelight flickered on each table, casting a warm glow over pristine white table cloths. The rhythm of the train in motion was a constant, as was the low drone of the engines.

"Do you think we should get something ordered for Fionna?" Lirssa was saying to her around a bite of steak she tucked into her cheek.

She looked back, lifting a bite of waffle on her fork. It dripped syrup in a sticky fall back to the plate. "Maybe. What do you think she wants?"

"Maybe some of the crepes and a steak, and she can pick."

"And whatever she doesn't want. Steve-a-rino can have."

Lirssa nodded. "Good plan. So, how's the waffle?"

"I should have asked for a chocolate chip one."

?Hindsight?s always twenty/twenty. Maybe in the morning ? or in an hour or so."

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(Adapted from live play with Rekah and Lirssa, with thanks!)

Train ?clair de luxe, Express du Nord
Paris-Bruxelles route, via Champagne-Ardennes

The journey to Ardennes from Paris by rail took sixteen hours in Fionna's world. The line wound through a plethora of picturesque villages, and the journey through the mountainous region was not without risk, the tracks laid in a series of careful switchbacks to permit the train's ascent through the gorges.

She'd booked three sleeping compartments: one for the men, one for Lirssa and Rekah to share, and one for Fionna and Raza. With Jasper's decision not to join them for now, that left Steve with his own compartment. After they got settled, the girls abandoned their compartment to explore the dining car. Raza was fitful, so Fionna put him to bed and settled herself in the little communal sitting area between her room and the girls. Steve's compartment was across the aisle.

She worried about him. He'd been mostly quiet since they purchased their tickets, managing the occasional quip and tease, before finally begging off. The thrum of the motors and the motion of the train lulled her into a pensive quiet. If she listened very, very closely, she could pick out the beating of his heart in the midst of the other noise. There wasn't much to see through the windows except the dark. The sleepy French countryside rolled past them. Sunrise would give them mountains.

The machinist had hit the dining car early, spiriting away an embroidered napkin full of dried meat and a few pastries before settling himself comfortably in his own compartment. The act of eating and drinking was little more than mechanical for Steve, his typically sharp blue eyes half-lidded as he stared at (and through) the scenery. Every once in a while he turned his attention towards the compartment door, staring almost at where he imagined Fionna would be.

She listened until the noises from the neighboring compartments subsided into slumber, rose, and checked on Raza. The boy was deeply asleep, and most of the occupants of the train had settled in likewise. A porter moved down the long aisle between cars, wordlessly nodding as he passed. Quiet settled again. She waited before slipping across the divide to tap lightly at his door.

"Left it unlocked for you," came the reply, the remnant of his meal re-wrapped and set aside. Making a show of lounging comfortably, Steve flickered his gaze towards the entering governor and offered her a wink.

She studied him from the doorway for a long minute, before slipping inside and shutting the door behind her with a quiet click, her hands pressed against it behind her back as she leaned into it.

"You gonna sit over there all night or you gonna come greet a member of the family all proper-like?" A slow crook of the finger was given, followed by a waggle of blonde brows. "Pour you a drink?" He gestured to the bottle of rum setting on the nearby table.

She locked the door with a snick of sound and left its moorings to wander closer. "I would love one." She'd left her hat and gloves in her compartment, but was still garbed in her traveling dress, stockings and pumps ? very proper for that time and place indeed. Her hair was done up in a thick chignon at the nape of her neck. She'd donned powder and lipstick for the journey.

"Gotta greet me proper before you get it." Taking up his empty glass, the machinist filled it with rum and wiggled it suggestively at her. "Right here waitin' for you, Your Miss Ladyship."

She came toward him in a slow, drifting pace consistent with the steady, rhythmic motion of the train, the oval of her face pale above the dark silk of her dress, her eyes deep and solemn and warm. She stopped as her knees brushed the insides of his thighs.

He remained silent during her approach, his eyes both thoughtful and intent on her lovely face. And then there she was, touching him feather light as if to ask permission to invade the personal space that had been all but hers for some time. Reaching up slowly, the machinist drew her down to him with the simple caress of weathered fingertips along her cheek, where a light kiss finally teased her jaw. "Come here," he mumbled quietly.

She folded herself down onto his lap, swiveling her hips to perch on his right thigh with her knees touching the left. The turn of a wrist let her graze the backs of her fingers down his cheek, while its mate pressed palm-first over his breast. The faint and heady spice of her cologne warmed between them. Every glance was a question, a worry, a caress.

A comforted sound rattled in his throat when Fionna settled, but no words were forthcoming for some time. Instead, Steve buried his face against the swan-like curve of her neck, his breath warm and even as he took succor in her presence. The pads of his fingers smoothed slowly over her hips and along the small of her back, settling finally. "You okay?" he said finally, quiet as to deflect attention from whatever was so obviously bothering him.

"Couer," she crooned softly into his hair, burying her nose there and breathing him in. She slid an arm around his shoulders to hold him close against her. Despite the ball of anxiety coiled in her belly, she feathered the lie into his scalp. "I am well. But how are you?"

"I didn't coo," he countered with a tease, one hand sliding down to pinch her backside before the hint of a laugh was snorted against her flesh. He plied the same spot with a light kiss a heartbeat later, before muttering. "I'm fine. Or I will be. The teleportation or whatever it was just jogged my memory a little too hard.?

She stroked and smoothed her slender, musician's fingers through his hair, over and over again. It had felt to her a little like dying and being reborn between one beat of the heart and the next. But he couldn't know what that was like, this warm, solid, and very alive man who was holding her. So she brushed a kiss there, and there, and there before asking him, "Tell me?"

"Tell you what?" The words soured almost immediately on his tongue, a mixture of fresh pain and regret knotting up his stomach. "That I'm payin' a social call to someone else's birthplace when mine was swallowed up in hellfire and brimstone?"

A middling span of silence followed, and she continued to hold him, her fingers still. "I want to know how you feel, what you are thinking.?

"It's just another scabbed over wound opened," he conceded, trying to write it off as less significant than it was. "And I don't want it to lessen what this trip means to you."

"Then don't lessen what it means to you.?

"What it means to me don't matter a whole lot," one broad shoulder hitched upwards in a shrug before his arms tightened around her in a squeeze. "This trip was about you and your family, Fionna. Don't sweat my hang-ups." His mouth found her jaw in a gentle kiss. "It's your trip, sweetheart. Enjoy yourself and I'm sure it'll be alright with me."

"It matters to me," an uneasy little pause left in the wake of that, and his assertion that she should enjoy the trip. She sank into the squeeze, a faint divot forming between her eyes through the kiss.

The tip of his nose brushed lightly along hers, the barest hint of a warm breath spilling against her lips as his gaze bored up into hers. Moments ticked away, bleeding into minutes before he finally found words again, plying them quietly. "What do you want me to say? That the sorrow I feel for what happened to me is only outweighed by the hate radiatin' from my heart as hot as the sun? That I'm jealous of the opportunity you're gettin'?"

"Yes," she rasped around a throat thick and tight with the pill she was swallowing. "If it's the truth, yes."

"Then there you have it," he admitted through gritted teeth. "It kills me inside to be here." Hawkish blue eyes finally dipped away from hers, cast down between them. "It means somethin' to me that you want me here, with you, for whatever it's worth. It's obvious that... we have evolved. Eventually, I'll probably screw that up."

"Or I will," rue flavored her words. "But I do. I do want you here. I don't think I would have had the courage to come alone."

"I'm here.? He bottled his own insecurities back up quickly enough under her subtle show of weakness, and laughed. "God, this was so much easier before.? His fingers spider-crawled along her spine, and he fell silent again before adding, ?If you need me, you know you've got me. But, I just? I need to hold onto you tonight.?

She brushed a trace of her lipstick from the corner of his mouth, her answer gentle affirmation despite the searching sweep of her gaze. ?Come sleep in my room."

===================================

She waited until she couldn't hear anyone moving in the hallway of the train compartment before leading him across the aisle to her cabin. He followed in a silent, almost predatory stalk, his gaze sweeping back and forth across the train car as they crossed. Like the one they?d just left, her compartment was a double, but unlike his, one of the bunks held her soundly sleeping son. She kept the lamp set as low as it would remain, and held a finger to her lips, but renewed the tension in the fingers laced through his. Everything was still and cozy as she closed and locked her compartment door behind them.

They went unseen, save for the flicker of a look in a round, convex mirror at the end of the aisle by a conductor in the porter's closet.

===================================
(Adapted from live play with Steve, with thanks!)