Place du Tertre

[The Exodus]

Irina Kozlovaya-Martin

Irina didn’t think she had half a hope of getting her hat back. Already, her legs were hot and tight from sprinting. Her heeled boots weren’t helping and Irina knew she probably looked a spectacle to those stupid children who’d ruined her hat. She determined not to cry, though. Crying was weakness. Irina was not weak. She was a survivor, who had been jostled from country to country over the years, sold into marriage, made a widow, and living by her wits. No hat—however beautiful—was worth her tears.

Still, half-heartedly—pathetically—she stumbled towards it.

And magically, as if out of thin air—a cloth came down and plucked the hat up. Irina followed the cloth up to see a man holding her hat. She lowered her skirts and smoothed them down as she walked towards him, well aware of the two hooligans staring at her back.

“Excuse me, mademoiselle,” said the man. “Is this your hat?”

“Yes. Is mine, thank you,” Irina said, taking it from him swiftly, but gently. She looked at it. The rainbow plumage was bent out of shape, distorted and possibly destroyed. She bit her lower lip and set to work dusting it off and trying to straighten it out. Sighing, she looked up at her savior with bloodhound eyes. “Is broken, yes?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gerard Bonnaire

“Yes. Is mine, thank you,” the woman said, snatching it from him. Gerard gladly handed it over, he had no need for a hat, after all. He looked distractedly at her, trying to place her rolling, throaty accent. It was lovely, but definitely not an indigenous species to France. Dejectedly, she held up her hat, a plastic plume hanging despondently from the body of the head adornment.

“Is broken, yes?” She asked, and Gerard, though not the best with not verbal clues, could guess she was upset. Gerard thought about this. He would have liked to say it was fixable, liked to say there was nothing tape and hot clue couldn’t fix. But that would have been misguiding the poor soul out of ignorance, which Gerard didn’t want to do.

“Not for certain, mademoiselle,” he said, examining the hat from a distance. “I’m not the one to ask about that.” Gerard could barely match his own clothes, much less repair accessories. That was more up the alley of… “My mother. She’s great at fixing things. I’m sure she could fix it for you.” Gerard looked past her at the boys running towards them. One carried sticks, another one stones.


Sticks and stones broke bones.

“Them,” Gerard said, nodding towards them, “unfortunately can’t be straightened out quite as easily. Sorry about them.” Children were a blessing. When they good. And quiet. And in a coma hooked up to IVs and not wreaking havoc on civilians. Thank God the only kids in his life were those patients and his sister’s kids. He handed them off at the end of the day, healthy and possibly drugged, and no longer his problem. If only all kids were that easily managed.

[The Exodus]

Irina Kozlovaya-Martin

Irina hated herself for not being thriftier. She had always thought if she came into money, she would continue on as normal, parceling out just enough to get by day to day and month to month, and not make ostentatious buys for the hell of it. Of course, Irina never had had much money in her life. And it was hard not to spend it all because she never knew when her next windfall might come. Even still, she was ashamed and her little, broken hat personified that anguish, with its bent and drooping plumes.

It was broken. There was no fixing it. She would have to not be sad over the little things in life, like broken hats and boys with sticks.

“Not for certain, mademoiselle,” the man said, peering at the hat. “I’m not the one to ask about that. My mother. She’s great at fixing things. I’m sure she could fix it for you.”

Irina’s generous mouth widened to a smile as she looked at this kind stranger with skeptical, but grateful eyes. She wasn’t used to such charity from strangers or so readily accepting help. But if his mother was a milliner or something, surely she could help. The man looked past Irina. She looked over her shoulder to see the boys headed their way.

“Them,” said the man with a nod in their direction, “unfortunately can’t be straightened out quite as easily. Sorry about them.”

“Sorry?” Irina echoed. “They are your children, then?”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gerard Bonnaire

“Sorry?” the woman mirrored, her tongue wrapping around the word, grasping it and mulling it around in her mouth. Gerard hadn’t meant to cause confusion… “They are your children, then?”

“My—?” Gerard laughed, the sound strangulating in his throat. “No, no. Goodness no. I have no children. And if I did I assure you they would know far better than to throw sticks at a woman that had done them no harm.”

It was a shame, really, that parents didn’t take an active enough role in their offspring’s lives. Maybe if human reproduction had been as slow as that of other mammals, kids would be better behaved, less likely to do drugs, murder… throw sharp objects at hats. Gerard, of course, didn’t speak of experience, merely observation. And it was observation he was after.

“Here is my card.” From his breast pocket, he procured a business card, his name emblazoned on the front in crisp clean letters that lay like newly pressed paper. He was assured by the company that the colour scheme looked professional, but he hadn’t been too sure. Nonetheless, he tried not to worry about it too much. “You may bring that hat to me at you convenience and I will see what I can do about getting that fixed. In the meantime, may I buy you a croissant? This is possibly the best place in all of Paris to eat them at. My own opinion of course, I believe it is valid…”

[The Exodus]

Irina Kozlovaya-Martin

The man stumbled over Irina’s words. For a moment, she held back a self-exasperated sigh. Her French wasn’t perfect, but all too often, words got lost in translation or accent. It was why Irina had no real friends in the city yet (or so she told herself) and why jobs weren’t pouring in. No one wanted to go to lunch with or work with a woman who they couldn’t have meaningful conversations with. To think of it, Irina didn’t want to spend time with people she couldn’t talk to, either. It was lonely, yes, but common.

But then the man laughed. Or, rather, Irina hoped it was a laugh. He sounded like he was choking and Irina knew nothing useful about saving lives.

“No, no. Goodness no. I have no children. And if I did I assure you they would know far better than to throw sticks at a woman that had done them no harm.”

If they were not his children, the man didn’t need to apologize. Irina’s brow wrinkled. She didn’t know if she would have thought to say she was sorry for a stranger’s behavior. “Sorry” implied responsibility. It wasn’t the man’s fault. Too nice, he was. That was new.

“Here is my card,” said the man and he offered her the card. The script—Roman letters—still threw Irina from up close. In the distance, up on street signs and billboards, it looked like decoration. But in tiny, crisp black on white, it presented an obstacle for Irina. A stubborn line etched between her brows as she looked at the card. She wondered if maybe Patrique from work could read it to her and tell her how to find this man again. “You may bring that hat to me at you convenience and I will see what I can do about getting that fixed. In the meantime, may I buy you a croissant? This is possibly the best place in all of Paris to eat them at. My own opinion of course, I believe it is valid…”

Irina looked up. He was being too nice, yes. Suspiciously so, perhaps? She couldn’t know. The stubborn line did not go away.

“You are always so nice to strangers?” she asked, lips twitching up into a smile. “Thank you.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gerard Bonnaire

The woman looked up from her fixation with the business card, the look on her face, a priceless shock that reminded Gerard that there were, in fact, genuinely grateful for random acts of kindness, and it restored a piece of the faith in humanity he had lost from seeing those cruel kids. If ever they came in to his office with a broken leg, he would, of course, set it for them, but because of their insistence on throwing sticks, he’d do so without anesthetic. But the look on her face became clouded, suddenly, with a tenacious concern that Gerard hoped the warm butter of a croissant would melt away.

“You are always so nice to strangers? Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And yes, I am.” Gerard said bluntly. He was a doctor, and unless you were Hugh Laurie with his medical degree from Hollywood, you needed a bedside manner at all times. What if someone had a heart attack at the coffee shop, or got run over by a taxi cab? They most certainly wouldn’t want a frazzled, frantic man tending to them if he happened to be nearby. Instead, they’d be better off with a calm, collected man with steady hands looking after them. It translated to everyday situations, too. Every opportunity was an opportunity to help someone in need.

He would have offered her his sleeve if he wasn’t worried about the germs she may have picked up after retrieving her hat from the filthy ground.

“Are you new to France?” He asked, leading her to his favourite little bakery. “You don’t sound French.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

It felt like forever since she had seen Damien! He had been incredibly busy with his work as a TA at the university for a while now and then he'd still had to focus on his own studies. He'd gone out of the country so he could focus on getting his gallery set up and had only just gotten back a few weeks ago. While she was incredibly proud of her dear friend, she had missed him terribly. But he was back now and they were going to get to hang out just they had before he'd left. The thought made her grin broadly.

It had taken them quite a while to get their schedules to coordinate so they could have some time to spend together. This was the first night they'd both had free in quite a while. As such Reese had wanted to make sure they did something extra special for their first outing together since he'd gotten back. Finally she had passing by a shop one day and saw that there would be a carnival in town that week. It was going to be Winter themed and Reese thought it would be completely perfect for them to go to!

She skipped along excitedly beside Damien, holding his hand as they approached the carnival. Carnivals and fairs had always been something she'd adored growing up. But she had never before been to a carnival in the snow. Most everything was covered in white and more white flakes drifted down. She pulled her coat a little tighter around her, beaming. The lights reflected off the glistening snow, squeals of laughter could be heard coming from a nearby ice skating rink that had been set up for carnival goers to enjoy, and the scent of hot cocoa filled the air around them.

"This look so incredible! Thank you for coming with me! I've really missed you," she told him for probably the 5th time that night as she squeezed his hand. She turned and looked again at the carnival. "I don't even know where to start!"

[The Exodus]

Damien Blackwood-Michaud

Damien had absolutely loved Holland. Everyone had always told him that the Netherlands were perfectly picturesque, with rows and rows of tulips under the arching arms of working windmills. Everyone had, of course, been wrong. When Damien left for the Netherlands, it had been the middle of winter and instead of finding fields of flowers waiting for him, Damien had discovered a frozen wonderland. He’d rented a house at the edge of a forest for a reasonable price and bicycled into town every day for coffee, new art supplies, and conversation with the locals. It had been therapeutic to have time and space to breathe, to create, and to finish his gallery, which wasn’t due until May. There’d been no distractions, unless you counted the cute guy who worked the coffee counter and who spoke adorably broken French. And Damien didn’t. Because there were no unwanted distractions. No term papers to grade, no dumb questions to answer about impressionism, no nagging parents, no spontaneous babysitting jobs. Just Damien and his art.

But as perfect as it sounded, Damien was not cut out for a life of solitude. He missed his friends. He missed his cat. He missed the big city and Bill’s cooking and Greggy’s mispronunciation of his name as “Day-me”. He missed Reese’s sunny laughter and teaming up with Ashton to annoy Lucian. He even missed having his mum check up on him to make sure he was still breathing. Now that he was back in Paris, though, Damien was realizing that some things had changed in the last month and a half. The world had kept on turning without him there to spin it.

It left him feeling like he was behind on absolutely everything. Greggy, for example, was using sentences. And Bill was planning Ben and Matvey’s wedding. And he had a new class, full of new faces.

But then there was Reese, who was just as excited to see Damien as he was to see her. She still gripped his hand and skipped alongside him as if a day hadn’t gone by where they’d been separated. And Damien absolutely adored her for that. He couldn’t suppress the wide grin on his face if he tried. Not that he wanted to. Why would you suppress a smile when you were going to a winter festival with your best friend?

The merry lights and bright canopies of street vendors came into sight as they reached the Place du Tertre. The usual crowd of cartoonists and face painters were hard at work. Damien had been one of them once. Last year. God, that was a lifetime ago. Peals of laughter fluttered through the air from the carousel and on the breeze, you could smell apple cider and hot cocoa that made Damien’s stomach whine excitedly.

"This look so incredible!” Reese gushed. “Thank you for coming with me! I've really missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too!” Damien said, giving Reese’s hand a squeeze and looking around.

It was a whole different world here than out in the middle of nowhere where Damien had spent the last few weeks. There was an ice rink that looked safer than the frozen-over pond a mile down the road from the house Damien had rented. There were kids in Burberry coats, throwing snowballs at each other, darting in and out of shopping stalls. It more than made up for the Christmas Damien had elected to spend on his own.


“I don't even know where to start!" Reese confessed.

Damien put a thoughtful finger to his lips and looked around.

“Ice skating first,” he said. “Let’s do that before we hit the food stalls or shopping.”

Because who wanted to find a place to keep their shopping bags while they ice skated? Not Damien, that was for sure. And he definitely did not want stomach cramps.

“How does that sound?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

Reese had always adored Christmas. She was the type of child who would go to bed every Christmas and make a wish for every day to be Christmas. It was things like that which made the winter carnival so amazing! It was like having Christmas come back 10 months early. With the snow and the ice skating and the hot beverages and shopping it was a winter wonderland. It also made it hard to decide where she and Damien should start.

She watched as Damien put a finger to his lips, glancing around as he tried to come to a decision. “Ice skating first,” he decided. “Let’s do that before we hit the food stalls or shopping. How does that sound?”

"That sounds great! Let's go," he said, tugging on his hand as she pulled him along. She was reminded of of doing the same thing to James at many carnivals and fairs back home. It seemed that even though she was 25 now, she hadn't exactly grown up very much.

They made their way over to the booth where they were renting out ice skates and where you could store your regular shoes. She requested her size skate and was a tad embarrassed when they came back with some bright pink ice skates that were obviously designed for a little girl. She looked over at Damien, silently telling him not to say a word, a grin pulled at the corners of her lips. She guessed it was kind of funny.

She took her skates over to a bench, sliding out of her boots and pulling them on over her warm woolen socks. After giving her shoes over to be stored until she done, she made her way over to the skating rink. Stepping out on the ice, she gave a giggle as she glided along happily. She skated up to the side in front of Damien who was lagging behind a bit, smiling at him and waving him to hurry on with it.

"Come on! Are you coming or not," she teased lightly with a broad smile.

[The Exodus]

Damien Blackwood-Michaud

Damien found himself easily tugged along by Reese’s enthusiasm, a broad smile overtaking most of his face. This was what he missed most; having enthusiastic, down-for-anything friends around. Reese in particular. He loved Bill and Ashton, but they both were given to irritation with Damien. Good natured, and maybe even deserved. But while they were acted like exasperated puppy-owners around Damien, trying to rein him in, Reese was just another dog in the dog park, ready to romp around and chase cars with Damien until they were both exhausted.

Together they bounded to the booth where you could rent skates. And they waited eagerly for their ice skates. The cashier returned with a pair of grey ones for Damien and a pair of sparkly pink ones for Reese. They looked like they would easily fit on a ten year old. Damien laughed and bit his lip when he caught Reese’s eye.

Not a word, she seemed to say.

Which Damien could totally respect.

But it was pretty funny.

They slipped on their skates and made their way to the rink. But as Reese zipped ahead, Damien hesitated. When he was a kid, he’d loved venturing out on the ice. But Bill had always had an aversion to it. Damien didn’t blame him; he knew full well why. But as a result, it had been a long time since Damien had been ice skating. As a kid, he hadn’t liked to do much without the MaCarthy boys in tow; as an adult he hadn’t had time. He wobbled after Reese, who turned around gracefully to wave.

"Come on! Are you coming or not?" she called out to him.

“I am, I am!” Damien insisted with a good natured pout. He pushed forward, slipping a little but maintaining his balance. Barely. “You have the advantage, Miss Ballerina, in case you forgot!”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

She wondered briefly what was taking Damien so long to get out on the ice. It had been his idea, after all. She didn't quite understand the hesitation she saw in his eyes as she skated up to him. What was so scary about ice skating? The rink was perfectly safe. It wasn't like he was going to fall through thin ice anywhere. Surely he wouldn't have suggested ice skating if he didn't actually know how. She teasingly called out to him, wondering if he planning on actually coming out to skate or not.

“I am, I am!” he insisted with teasing pout, making her giggle. “You have the advantage, Miss Ballerina, in case you forgot!” She laughed at the words, but they were somewhat true. As a dancer she had always been pretty good at ice skating. The movements were very similar.

"No, I don't have the advantage because I'm a ballerina," she insisted. "I have the advantage because I'm actually out on the ice! It's kind of the point of ice skating." She gave a wink and grinned at him to let him know she was simply teasing.

She offered her hand out to him. "Come on. You'll get the hang of it in no time once you get out here," she insisted. Taking his hands, she helped him out on to the ice, skating backwards to help him get his balance. "See! Just have to sort of glide your feet along the ground. Not so hard."

Out of the corner of the her eye she could see they were approaching a snow bank. But with Damien in tow she didn't have the momentum to change their course or stop them from crashing. They hit it head on and landed in the snow, making her shriek. She busted out laughing and sat up, looking over at Damien.

"I'm so sorry! I couldn't stop us! Are you okay," she asked, still giggling.

[The Exodus]

Damien Blackwood-Michaud

Damien’s legs felt like jello – wobbly and not quite solid. They supported him well enough at the edge of the skating rink. He held the wall for support.

"No, I don't have the advantage because I'm a ballerina," Reese said. "I have the advantage because I'm actually out on the ice! It's kind of the point of ice skating."

She threw a wink Damien’s way.

“Oh, haha. Very clever,” he said before erupting into genuine laughs. Reese offered her hand to him.

"Come on. You'll get the hang of it in no time once you get out here," she promised. Damien took the offer. Reese was smaller than Damien; less than a foot, but more than a few inches. And yet, she was much steadier, much sturdier. Damien’s feet slipped from under him, but Reese didn’t waver and instead, anchored him in place until he got a feel for the lack of friction. "See! Just have to sort of glide your feet along the ground. Not so hard."

It really wasn’t. And soon, they were speeding across the ice. Damien didn’t bother looking where he was going and instead stared at his own feet. Their gliding motion fascinated him. How did Reese dance without staring at her own feet? How did she ice skate without watching them? Each move had to be really precise, really steady, or you’d fall over. And it was kind of amazing to see in motion.

It was too late when Damien realized they were headed for the snow bank. It wasn’t until he and Reese were capsized and he had a mouthful of snow that tasted like smog that Damien thought he should have looked where he was going. He looked over at Reese.

"I'm so sorry!” Reese said, giggling. “I couldn't stop us! Are you okay?"

Damien chuckled. He lay back in the snow bank and stretched his arms out over his head. He looked over at Reese with a grin. “This works. We could make snow angels instead. Since I’m probably going land on my arse no matter what.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

Reese felt just fine after their crash. As far as she could tell there were broken bone, no sprained or twisted ankles. She would probably a bruised elbow and backside in the morning but if that was the extent of her damage then she was grateful. She just hoped Damien was all right. She couldn't help the laughing way she asked if he was okay, though she knew she would feel very guilty for it later if Damien actually was hurt.

Thankfully he gave a laugh as he laid back in the snow and stretched his arms over his head. He shot her a grin. “This works. We could make snow angels instead. Since I’m probably going land on my arse no matter what.” he declared.

Reese shook her head, laughing as well. "Well with that attitude you certainly will," she told him in a mockingly firm voice. She gathered a bit of snow in her hand and tossed the ball of it at him where it landed against his shoulder and made her laugh again.

It was then that a young woman and her small daughter (who was wearing an even smaller size of Reese's skates) came up to them. "Excusez-moi! Are you and your boyfriend all right," she asked.

Reese didn't even bother to correct her. "Yes. We're fine...umm.. merci," she replied and the woman nodded and went skating off with the little girl in tow. Reese grinned and shook her head. "You and Santiago both! I swear, I can't take either of you guys anywhere without someone thinking we're dating," she declared with a laugh.

[The Exodus]

Damien Blackwood-Michaud

Damien couldn’t see her, but he could hear Reese laughing. Snow angels were safe; snow angels were nice. Even if the snow was cold and wet, it was preferable to pretend he’d landed on his arse intentionally than for Damien to admit he’d fallen down.

"Well with that attitude you certainly will," said Reese, throwing a snowball at Damien’s shoulder. He laughed and sat up, gathering his own wad of snow to throw back at her. But a shadow draped over them as a woman and a young child skated over to them.

"Excusez-moi! Are you and your boyfriend all right?” the woman asked.

It took Damien a minute to realize that Reese’s “boyfriend” was him. He couldn’t say that he was offended. He used to have a trigger finger for anyone who mistook him for being straight, but Damien didn’t much care. He only grinned. If he had to be landed with a girl, Reese wasn’t so bad. Actually, she was probably the best girl he could find himself landed with.

"Yes. We're fine...umm.. merci," Reese said. The woman and her child skated off and then Reese said, "You and Santiago both! I swear, I can't take either of you guys anywhere without someone thinking we're dating.”

“You hussy,” Damien said, grinning. “Cheating on me with another best friend. I’m so hurt.”

He flicked a little bit of snow Reese’s way. They were both single right now. In fact, Damien had never known Reese to have a boyfriend. Damien had had one last year, but it was a short lived thing. Shorter than he would have preferred, since he had never seen himself as the type of guy to fall in and out of love so quickly and easily. He’d always hoped he’d be a romantic figure, who fell in love with his muse. And what about Reese? She was such a sweet, lovely girl… How was it she didn’t have anyone? How come he didn’t either? They were some of the best people Damien knew. And that was being modest.

“Tell you what,” he said. “I have an embarrassing hole in my social calendar for Valentine’s Day this year. What say you to having an anti-holiday together?”

Usually, anti-holidays were his and Bill’s thing. But Bill was wicked busy with prepping for Ben and Matvey’s wedding. And somehow, Damien figured Reese would take better to being his faux-valentine than Bill ever had. She might actually let him send her gifts without telling him to sod off.

[blueeyeddevil]

Reese Cordova

Reese supposed that in a way she was actually kind of flattered whenever people mistook Damien and Santiago as her boyfriend. Both were very attractive and if people thought that either of her boys might see her that way, she couldn't say she minded. But just because a guy and girl might hang out together didn't mean they had to be dating! It was perfectly acceptable for a guy and a girl to be friends in this day in age. Though Reese had to admit her romantic heart longed for a guy she she could be more than just friends with.

Instead of dwelling on it, she quickly teased Damien acting like it was all his fault that people assumed they were dating. “You hussy,” he said with a grin, flicking snow her way. “Cheating on me with another best friend. I’m so hurt.”

Reese and playfully indignant laugh as she quickly gathered some snow and tossed it at him again. "I'll have you remember that you were the one who left me," she teased, grinning. "You're lucky I took you back." She laughed again, reaching out to hug him , arms around his neck. It was certainly good to have him back...really, she thought she was the lucky one.

“Tell you what," Damien said. “I have an embarrassing hole in my social calendar for Valentine’s Day this year. What say you to having an anti-holiday together?”

A grin slowly spread across her face. "I'm free too and I guess I'm up for it," she said. "Though I'm not sure exactly what an Anti-Valentine's day would actually look like. What exactly does it entail?" She was always up for spending time with Damien, though she was curious his plans for a Anti-holiday on Valentines. It sounded like it could be a lot fun. Then again, most things were fun when she hung out with her best friend.