Itinéraires Bistro

[blueeyeddevil]

Dr. Reid Collier

Now this was why he had come to Paris. He certainly enjoyed his work as a psychologist for the Opera House. It was interesting and he enjoyed helping the people there. But this was the real root as to what had brought him here...to be a consultant to the police department and help get to the bottom of the suddenly surge in crime rates here in Paris. This was going to be how he truly helped people. He was going help in solving these murders and prevent anyone else from meeting that same fate. He would have to remember to ask Detective Duval if there were any missing persons in the last few days that matched the description of the victims. Time would key if that were the case.

Reid had gotten a call that morning from the department, saying they needed him to look over the case and see if he could establish the profile of the offender and if there was any other information he could glean from it. He would be meeting a Detective Duval here at the Bistro who would walk him through the facts of the case. Reid thought it was a little odd to discuss the gruesome murders of at least 5 women between the ages of 25 and 32 in such a tourist driven area, but he supposed it was as good a place as any. It wasn't as though tourist didn't know people were murdered in Paris. The rate was 3.3 people murdered for every 100,000 people in Paris. Tourists probably didn't not that though.

He was ready to get started on the case, but for now he could only sit here and drink his coffee while he waited for Detective Duval to show up and give him the run down.

[The Exodus]

Emilio Duval

Detective Emilio Duval was determined to impress his new partner. Robert Grant had a nasty reputation around the station for being difficult to impress and even harder to like. He was sort of the Dirty Harry of Paris; Emilio hadn’t a clue how many partners the older man had had over the years, but it was a death sentence to work with him. The way Emilio saw it, he wasn’t exactly Chico Gonzales or Frank DiGiorno, though, so if Grant thought all it would take was a bullet to the leg or something to make him resign, he was sadly mistaken. There was nothing Emilio wanted more than to be a homicide detective. It would take more—a lot more—to scare him off the squad.

And in order to impress Grant, Emilio had gone out of his way to get a special informant. Criminal Profiler Dr. Reid Collier was an American consultant with an impressive track record. And since Emilio and Grant were closing up the last case Emilio and his former partner, Louis, had been working, Emilio figured he was allowed to make a glory grab on his own.

He entered the bistro with the case file tucked away in a brief case. He looked around, past the mother-child pair having what looked like a tea party and past the couples holding hands to see a lone man drinking coffee. Emilio approached him with a small smile.

“Doctor Collier? Detective Duval. We spoke on the phone?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Dr. Reid Collier

Reid watched a nearby table where a mother was a little tea party with her young daughter. There were stuffed animals in the seats not being used and a miniature tea set along side the restaurant's food. It would have been a tender scene if the mother had not been displaying many of the typical symptoms of withdrawl, probably an alcoholic. She hadn't eaten hardly any of her own food and her hand trembled as she reached for the tiny plastic tea cup. The woman was notably jumpy, startled by the sound of someone's chair scraping the ground. Most likely the woman felt guilty and was trying to make it up to the little girl. The little girl was fine though, no bruising or signs of neglect, and she seemed quite happy. As long as there was no abuse, Reid wouldn't step in.

It was then that he looked up to see a well dressed man approaching him. A polite smile was on the man's face. “Doctor Collier? Detective Duval. We spoke on the phone?” he said.

"Oh course! Nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand for the man to shake. He motioned for Detective Duval to have a seat across from him the table. Taking one last drink of the coffee, Reid leaned forward, ready to discuss the facts of the case. "So you said on the phone that there have been five murders," he said, making sure to keep his voice low for the sake of the rest of the people in the bistro. He was getting better at that kind of stuff. "What can you tell me about the victims and where they were found?"

[The Exodus]

OOC: For Solange and Tristan! BIC:

Tristan Vidal

It was a little surreal to be sitting in a restaurant across from Solange de Grace. Particularly since it had been her idea they eat lunch together. Every time Tristan looked down at his menu, he’d look up a few seconds later to check to see if she was still there and this wasn’t a practical joke. They didn’t do lunch together. Usually, Tristan forgot to take his lunch break or he’d eat in his office while catching up on email correspondences with the neighborhood florist and the local morgue. Solange he seldom saw eating her lunch, but he knew she must take a lunch break because every day in the middle of the afternoon, she’d announce that she was taking her break or else Tristan would wander out of the embalming room to ask her something and there’d be no one at her desk. They ran on parallel schedules that had never intersected; at least, not at lunch.

And yet after the second funeral service of the day, they were both ready for lunch and they’d both wanted to go to the same restaurant. Tristan didn’t usually take lunch out into the city, but there had been no way anyone would have persuaded him to do otherwise. On Monday, he’d begun preparations for the cremation Gwen requested he perform for her stillborn daughter. It was a somewhat routine matter – a common step in the grieving process after a miscarriage – but because it was Gwen, it had thrown Tristan entirely off his game this week. He’d been consumed by designing a custom urn for the ashes; bending over backwards to schedule her and Torben for a favorable day, one where he could devote his full attention to them. And it had shown today when he called a client by the wrong name this morning. Or when he’d picked up Solange’s coffee cup instead of his own and drank half of it before realizing that what he was drinking was practically pure cream and sugar, instead of his usual bitter, black coffee. You couldn’t pay him to go back to work on his break right now, back to his mental fog.

Although, the fog had only gotten thicker when Solange said that they might as well eat together, since it would be stupid to go to the same restaurant and eat alone. Tristan agreed and, secretly, he was glad for the company. If he’d been eating alone, he would have gone back to obsessing over making everything as perfect as he could for Gwen and Torben’s ceremony, fixating. And now, instead, he could focus on trying not to read too much into this lunch date that definitely wasn’t a lunch date.

They were both dressed too conservatively to be mistaken for a lunch date, anyways. Too fancy for a casual meet-up in a bistro between friends. More like a job interview. Except if a passerby had to hazard a guess, Solange was doing the hiring, since Tristan couldn’t quite focus his eyes and Solange was calmly reading her menu, as if unaware that Tristan kept looking at her like she might disappear any second. Conversation was nonexistent. He didn’t want to talk about work. He didn’t want to talk about Gwen and Torben. He didn’t want to remind Solange that the few times they’d been alone and not working, that she was usually upset. He didn’t want to piss her off or start out with a gem of a conversation starter like, “Let’s talk about our awful exes”. Both things he’d done the last few times they’d been alone.

It was a lovely day outside, all things considered. The morning had been drizzly, grey. But now the sun was out and it bounced happily off of Solange’s shiny, dark hair. Tristan figured they were past talking about the weather, though. And even if they weren’t, he probably would have said something stupid anyways. Like: ‘So… it rained this morning. Did you see that?’ Or: ‘your hair has nice, red undertones in this light. Did you know that?’

He could talk about something deep. Or try to. Art, music, philosophy. But she’d probably just stare at him like he’d grown an extra head.

“So,” he said cautiously, putting the menu down. “This is… nice.”

He looked past Solange after saying that, pretty sure that he hadn’t actually started a successful conversation. And he took to people watching. Two tables away, there was a fight brewing between two diners – both women, one a little younger than the other. You could see it in the posture of the young one; her arms were folded and her jaw tight. The older one, too. She kept talking and her hands danced through the air, until they looked more like a pair of precise karate fighters. Tristan cringed and looked back at Solange.

“Like I said... This is nice,” he said, trying to smile. His lips quivered, faltered. He leaned forward, lowered his voice, and nodded towards the arguing girls. “Two tables behind you. There is an epic catfight about to go down. You watch. In five minutes, there will be yelling.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Honestly Solange was finding herself a little worried about Tristan. He'd been completely out of sorts all week. It was one thing for him to mistakenly drink her coffee instead of his own, but it was another for him to drink almost half of it before actually noticing how sweet it was. And normally he was extremely attentive, at least to the things it took to keep the funeral home running, such as the clients. But then she had gotten a call this morning at the front desk that had an angry woman yelling about how the man had called her deceased husband by the wrong name...something was definitely up with him.

At least part of her reasoning behind inviting herself out to lunch with him was to figure out what that was for her grandmother's sake. After all, she had promised her grandmother that she would watch out for Tristan best she could when she was gone. Apparently, now it had time for her to fulfill that promise. The other part, she was surprised to find, was she was genuinely a little concerned.

She sat there glancing at the menu and trying to decide what she should get and trying to figure out she was going to going to go about bringing the subject of his odd behavior with Tristan. “So,” Tristan's voice broke through her thoughts. “This is… nice.”

She glanced at from over the top of her menu to see that he had set his own to the side and the apparent niceness of the situation seemed to be forgotten almost instantly. He wasn't even looking at her anymore but somewhere beyond her over her shoulder. She shot him a questioning look, wondering what it was he was looking at.

"Hello? You there," she asked softly, waving her hand faintly to try and get his attention.

“Like I said... This is nice,” he tried again with a smile. Suddenly he seemed to give up on that line of thought and leaned closer, nodding towards whatever was behind her. “Two tables behind you. There is an epic catfight about to go down. You watch. In five minutes, there will be yelling.”

Solange looked him with a raised eyebrow before daring a casual glance back. Sure enough a younger woman and an older woman were locked in a heated discussion that was quite clearly going to break out into a full on fight in a matter of minutes. She turned around back in her seat and shook her head slightly.

"I give it less than that..." she said. "My bet is they're sisters. Big sister is angry at little sister for stealing her husband. Any second now, little sister is going to say something that is going to push big sister over the edge and she's going to end up with a face full of panini." She gave a wicked little grin. "What do you think it is?"

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Solange looked over at the table. Excitement caught in Tristan’s chest when she did, strangely smug and giddy, especially when Solange looked back at him. But then she shook her head.

"I give it less than that..." she said. "My bet is they're sisters. Big sister is angry at little sister for stealing her husband. Any second now, little sister is going to say something that is going to push big sister over the edge and she's going to end up with a face full of Panini. What do you think it is?"

Tristan returned Solange’s wicked grin, but rolled his eyes.

“It’s not about a guy,” Tristan insisted. Why does it have to be about a guy? “But you’re right, though. They’re sisters. But Big Sister has been taking care of Mom and her Alzheimer’s for the last few years and Little Sister hasn’t been helping. Big Sister’s reached her boiling point.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

She wasn't sure why, but this little game was vastly entertaining to her. The scenario had flickered to her brain at seeing the posture of the two women. It was obvious the older one was more upset and the less attractive of the two. It really wouldn't have come as a surprise to learn that her husband had left her for her sister who was now sitting in front of her. She could also just see the way the fight would go down with food flying and hair being pulled.

She asked Tristan what his take was on the two women and he only grinned and rolled his eyes. “It’s not about a guy,” he said assuredly and she raised an eyebrow at him as if asking how he could be so certain. “But you’re right, though. They’re sisters. But Big Sister has been taking care of Mom and her Alzheimer’s for the last few years and Little Sister hasn’t been helping. Big Sister’s reached her boiling point.”

She nodded and smiled lightly. "Interesting..." she mused. "I'm curious though...what made you say it wasn't a guy?"

She listened to what he had to say and as he finish, her eyes landed on the next couple. Over in the corner booth there was a beautiful blond woman wearing a rather revealing attempt as business attire. Across from her sat a nerdy, scrawny young man in glasses and nice, if slightly rumpled suit. The two of them were making surprisingly genuine goo-goo eyes at one another and holding hands across the table.

Solange leaned in a bit. "Corner booth...behind you to your right," she whispered lowly and then cracked a smile. "What are you thinking?"

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Solange nodded, smiled. And suddenly, this felt like a game. A juvenile game between two teenagers, who hadn’t a clue how else to communicate. If Tristan had known this would be the quickest way to win a smile from her, the most low-key way to facilitate camaraderie, he would have done it the day she walked into his funeral home.

"Interesting..." Solange said. ”I'm curious though...what made you say it wasn't a guy?"

“Gut feeling, I guess,” said Tristan with a shrug. Truthfully, he didn’t know what possessed him to say it. An affair seemed so… over the top. Too romanticized and cliché. Like the boss who mooned after his secretary in his spare time. “Maybe I just don’t have a romantic bone in my body.”

"Corner booth...behind you to your right," Solange whispered, nudging her head in the direction of their next target. A smile lit up her face. "What are you thinking?"

Tristan turned around to look. Seated in the corner booth was a genuinely gorgeous girl. She had long, blond hair that curled at the ends; she’d come by those curves honestly, too. And she clearly wanted someone to notice. But she held hands with her companion in such a way that told anyone who might be looking that she was attached. The man was wiry, with horn-rimmed glasses, and a suit that had surely seen better days. He looked utterly enamored by his companion. And the surprising thing was that she looked equally charmed. She wasn’t Tristan’s type, though, so he didn’t understand the cold snap in his chest that felt like jealousy. Couples didn’t usually leave him this cold. If anything, he was usually the first to admire true care and love when he saw it. And in his line of work, he saw it often. The tender way a widow stroked her husband’s face before they closed the casket; a young husband planting a kiss atop his grieving wife’s head at her father’s funeral. Even the couple who he’d caught going at it in his supply closet a few years ago brought a feeling of vicarious joy or maybe hope to his gut. But this registered only as cognitive dissonance. Like what he was seeing took his preconceived notions of how love worked and kicked them in the teeth.

He didn’t turn back to look at Solange. Instead, he slung his arm over the back of his chair and slumped a little. His lip curled into a sneering smile.

“I think he’s a lucky b*stard,” he said honestly. “But do you really think she’s as into him as he’s into her?”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

Solange watched the couple in the corner booth with a fond smile on her face. They certainly did make a rather odd pair. Anyone watching could tell the woman was way out of the guy's league and more than likely he knew it too. Still, somehow this girl seemed just as taken with him as he did with her. She had to know that she could do better than the guy in the booth in front of her but she seemed more than happy to be there with him.

She asked Tristan what his thoughts were on the couple. He didn't glance at her but leaned back in his chair and gave a rather bitter sort of smile. “I think he’s a lucky b*stard,” he said and Solange gave a look as if to say "oh, come on..." Was he seriously jealous? “But do you really think she’s as into him as he’s into her?”

She glanced at the couple again and smiled. Honestly, she did. She didn't know if the affectionate roll of the girl's eyes when the guy cracked some joke or the way her thumb gently rubbed the top of his hand as she held it...she believed this girl was really crazy about this guy. Either she was the most amazing actress ever or it was real.

"I think she is," Solange said with a nod. "I'm betting that guy was probably one of the first guys to actually listen to her and treat her like a human being instead of just stare at her. That probably got him in the door enough to make her laugh and make her feel special and after that...she fell for him hard."

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

The longer he looked at the couple, the weirder Tristan felt. His stomach was caving in, crumbling. Like he wanted to be happy and sad at the same time, but couldn’t decide and just imploded instead. He looked back at Solange when he couldn’t handle watching the strangers share private jokes and tender glances.

Bad idea…

Solange’s eyes had gone soft in staring at the couple. A little, melting smile pooled on her lips. And now Tristan understood his jealousy. He put his elbow up on his table and leaned his forehead into his palm. He needed to get a grip. Some girls went for the dork in the suit; some girls didn’t. Sometimes, leagues didn’t matter.

And sometimes, they completely and totally did.

"I think she is," Solange said with a nod. "I'm betting that guy was probably one of the first guys to actually listen to her and treat her like a human being instead of just stare at her. That probably got him in the door enough to make her laugh and make her feel special and after that...she fell for him hard."

“That’s sweet,” Tristan said. He made a mental note never to ever get caught staring, especially not at Solange. He already didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell; he didn’t need to piss her off, too. “Guess they’re both pretty lucky, then.”

He rubbed his forehead and sat up straighter, looking around for their next targets. He had to, or he’d sit here and try to wheedle more information about how a guy like that and a girl like that could work past their differences. He wasn’t some overeager, lovesick teenager. He wasn’t going to be obvious. Because if Tristan could get over this weird, sappy feeling by the end of the month, life could go on as planned and Solange would never, ever have to know that since that night in Batofar, he’d seen her in a different, less-than-professional light.

But no one caught his attention now. All he could think about was suit guy and pinup girl. He looked back at them with a decidedly less vicious smile. They were both laughing now. Anyone and everyone in the restaurant could surely hear.

“Wonder what they’re talking about,” he said, looking back at Solange. “Whatever it is must be funny.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

There was something about a couple like the one over there in the corner booth that Solange couldn't help but admire. They were so different and yet so completely in love with one and they didn't seem to care what anyone else thought. She wondered briefly how long the two had been together? A year? Less than that? Either way, it gave her a strange sense of hope that a relationship could work even the two involved were very different people.

She found herself sort of thinking out loud about what that relationship might be like. Solange could imagine that a girl that looked like wouldn't get too many guys who actually cared about hearing her input, regardless of how intelligent or unintelligent she might be. She could certain see falling for the only guy at the office who actually wanted to hear her opinion and who obviously could make her laugh. He was kind of cute too, Solange supposed, in an awkward and nerdy kind of way.

“That’s sweet,” Tristan said, sounding sincere. “Guess they’re both pretty lucky, then.”

Solange nodded in agreement. She wasn't sure why but she found herself still looking at the couple. She was starting to feel a bit like a stalker. But there was just something about the two of them and they way they didn't make sense but did at the same time. The two of them cracked each other up with some personal joke and everyone else only heard the laughter.

“Wonder what they’re talking about,” Tristan mused aloud. “Whatever it is must be funny.”

Solange nodded again, looking back at Tristan with a tiny smile. "Probably inside joke from the office. Something that no one but the two of them is going to understand," she said, surprising herself a bit with how much she wanted something like that. Suddenly she paused and bit her lip, frowning just a bit. "It doesn't make us really creepy for watching them on their date does it?" Another pause and she shook her head, laughing. "Oh God, it does. We are really really creepy."

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Solange nodded. Her smile hadn’t disappeared yet, though it was shrinking away. Tristan wished he knew how to make her laugh, the way suit guy made pinup girl laugh; he didn’t want that smile to go away for too long. She’d been sad lately. But how did a guy get a girl to laugh at his jokes in the first place? What kind of jokes actually worked?

"Probably inside joke from the office,” Solange said, which Tristan thought was the most useful and fascinating thing she’d yet said. “Something that no one but the two of them is going to understand."

He nodded. Did they have any inside jokes?

No, Tristan realized with a sudden pang of longing. The closest thing they had was a misadventure in hangovers. To be fair, the types of jokes he could make at work would likely horrify Solange. Sometimes they horrified Tristan with their lack of sensitivity. He could make himself laugh, but probably not Solange. Still, she imagined an office romance for the strange couple. Which was as close to something hopeful Tristan could grip onto. It was something she didn’t find overly distasteful.

Or maybe it bothered her. She was nibbling her lip. Tristan couldn’t help but stare a little when she did that, brows furrowed. Solange was unreadable; puzzled and puzzling.

"It doesn't make us really creepy for watching them on their date does it?"

Tristan hadn’t thought of that. An immediate protest sprang to his lips.

“No, it just makes us—“ He couldn’t think of a word. “It doesn’t.”

But Solange shook her head and began to laugh. That wished-for sound caught Tristan off-guard. He closed his mouth, stopped fighting, and just listened.

"Oh God,” said Solange. “It does. We are really really creepy."

Tristan always hated that word. “Creepy”. It had been thrown around like an insult at him – hurled, really – when he was a kid. Usually other kids said it; sometimes Laurence. But when Solange said it – when she said “we” – Tristan couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t so bad. He didn’t mind being creepy with her.

That came out wrong, he thought, thankful he didn’t say it out loud.

“Well, there’s no one I’d rather be creepy with,” he said out loud.

Which still came out wrong. Color fled Tristan’s face. His blue eyes went wide as what he’d just said registered. He wanted to slide under the table and not come back up for a very, very long time.

Sh*t.

“Let’s pretend I didn’t say that,” he said, caught between a laugh and a mortified, strangled yelp. “I just meant… This was fun. Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

[blueeyeddevil]

Solange de Grace

She asked Tristan if it made them creepy to be staring at a couple who were obviously on a date. That didn't even take into account the scenarios that she had come up with in order to try and figure them out. She could be totally off! Maybe the girl just had no idea how attractive she was and threw herself at the first guy to show real interest. Solange doubted it, but either it was creepy of her and Tristan to be spying on them like this!

“No, it just makes us—“ he began and paused, obviously trying to think of what else staring at couples on dates could possibly make them. “It doesn’t.” he finished unhelpfully.

Suddenly Solange found herself cracking up and claiming that it was true. They really were creepy. “Well, there’s no one I’d rather be creepy with,” Tristan said and she watched as his eyes went wide and he face went pale. “Let’s pretend I didn’t say that,” he said. “I just meant… This was fun. Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

Still in a fairly good mood and seeing how mortified he looked, Solange just found herself laughing all over again, covering her mouth to stifle it. She waved her other hand good naturedly and rolled her eyes with a smile. "Tristan, it fine. I know what you meant," she assured him. "And you're right...it was kind of fun. We should come back sometime."

[The Exodus]

Tristan Vidal

Instead of getting angry or flustered, Solange continued to laugh. Tristan licked his lips before offering her a shy, tentative smile.

"Tristan, it fine. I know what you meant," she assured him. "And you're right...it was kind of fun. We should come back sometime."

Tristan’s smile widened, and he chuckled a little. It’s a date, he thought a little sarcastically. It wasn’t, of course, but it was something. And something was almost always better than nothing. Tristan felt like fist pumping the air or something.

“Sounds good to me,” he said instead. “Same time next week?”

But before Solange could answer, the sound of a man clearing his throat got Tristan’s attention. He looked to see that a waiter stood, holding a small notepad and pen. The waiter had pursed lips and a pinched face; the forever harassed look of a French waiter.

“Are the two of you ever going to order anything?”


OOC: Fin[/i]

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: Penny/Tom BiC:

Penny MaCarthy

For once, Penny got a day off. There were no papers to staple, no files to search through, no coffee to be poured and mixed to exact specifications. Of course, there were always papers that needed stapling and files that needed sorting, and bossy secretaries who needed their caffeine fixes. But not today. Today, those things were someone else’s problem as Penny was allowed to sleep in and her usually five minute lunch break was extended to be however long Penny saw fit. She was free to do whatever she wanted today and she wasn’t going to let anyone dictate her Friday. She did have half a mind to call Bill and invite him out to join her, purely out of politeness, but the idea of arguing with her eldest brother did not seem like the best way to spend her first free weekday since arriving in France.

So she took this opportunity to visit a bistro suggested to her by Bill and boss alike and settled down into a nearby table for two, setting her winter belongings across from her in the stead of company. She skimmed the menu and smiled at the tea and soup options. The bitter February told her that she had better warm up before stepping outside once more. So she ordered whatever she thought would keep her warmest, said a half-genuine, hasty grace, and took in the glorious scent of food that could be enjoyed for once and not gulped down in a hurry to return to meetings she didn’t actually have to attend.

Oh yes. This was going to be a lovely afternoon.