Les Champs Elysees

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

When Alexander had still worked at the Opera Garnier, he’d attended no less than two parties a year. Each to-do was flamboyant, filled with friends, alcohol, and themed costumes. He could still remember one Halloween Gala he’d attended dressed as Peter Pan to a friend’s Tinkerbell. He’d worn green tights and a green leotard and a jaunty, feathered cap. That night, he’d felt at home in his skin. Now, he wished he really was the boy who never grew up and was free to stay a boy forever. He was at the Moulin Rouge’s celebration of Andi Foster’s great triumph and—had Alexander stayed a boy instead of growing into a thirty year old man—he would have been reveling in the bright lights, enjoying the hors d’oeuvres, and making merry until the small hours of the morning. But, instead, he held a glass of wine, which he refilled discreetly throughout the night. His lips stayed clamped shut in an awkwardly frozen smile. And he worried that the sitter would invite her boyfriend over and neglect to feed his children dinner. Alexander was too old to party as he had in his twenties and too young to understand why life was this unfair. It wasn’t that Andi Foster was a bad choreographer. It wasn’t that she was a bad person, either. But once the green eyed monster took a bite out of Alexander, the wound took forever to heal.

The thing was, Alexander half wanted to congratulate Andi Foster. He wasn’t a bundle of goodwill at all times, but he wasn’t so prideful not to acknowledge her. And, honestly, other than the dancers he spent his time trussing up for shows, Andi Foster was the only other person at the Moulin Rouge who Alexander had had any kind of meaningful or prolonged conversation with. He wondered if maybe the same was true for her.

But funnily enough, Alexander had seen thirty thousand people tonight, and not a single one of them was Andi Foster. When the clock struck midnight, Alexander decided that he’d just congratulate her at work—if he was in the mood to do so without what seemed like gallons of alcohol in his bloodstream—because he should really be getting home at a reasonable hour. He excused himself discreetly and began to walk back towards his apartment.

The night air nipped at his skin. Evenings in Paris had been refreshingly cool; days, too hot to bear. Alexander ran a hand up the back of his head, spiking his hair with sweat. He decided in that moment to walk along the Bois du Bolougne on his way home. The police had been cleaning the place up, ridding it of prostitutes and Pierce Rowe-like characters and implementing children’s day camps and curfews. Sometimes, he could forget it was in the Bois du Bolougne he’d nearly died five years ago. Sometimes, he could forget that the trees, with their claw like hands, occasionally haunted his nightmares. He could even forget that he seldom allowed Jules and Serena in the Bois du Bolougne simply because of old, now irrelevant fears of his. Almost. A tiny chill crept up Alexander’s spine as he passed the park. He couldn’t remember why coming here had seemed like a good idea.

He considered turning around and finding a subway station to carry him home. But the alcohol urged Alexander to be brave, to be adventurous, and to not be such a baby. The alcohol—or whatever—told him that it was his own cowardice that had barred him from dream jobs and a full and happy life. His own cowardice was why he hadn’t gotten enough years with Esperanza and why he was working as a house mom instead of dominating a stage. He wanted to shake the thoughts and tried, quite literally, to dislodge them from his head. Instead, as he shook his head like a dog, something caught his eye. Alexander stopped and stared. Lying on a nearby bench, covered in popcorn, was Andi Foster.

Alexander wondered if he’d had way too much to drink and was conjuring images of people who weren’t actually there. He blinked a few times, but Andi Foster was still there, laying on the bench asleep.

And iron terror clamped Alexander’s stomach. The Bois du Bolougne was dangerous. It was no place for a lone woman at night. Alexander had been held at gunpoint—the only time he’d been held at gunpoint—here. He’d broken his fingers fighting off that attacker. And he’d been alone then. Alone and lucky to get away. Another man might have let Andi Foster take her chances and taken her job, should things go awry, but that wasn’t Alexander. If he’d passed out on a park bench, he’d want someone friendly to help him home. He climbed over the stone barrier that led out of the park and after dusting himself off, approached Andi Foster’s sleeping form.

She was actually quite pretty when she wasn’t busy doing Alexander’s job. Her reddish-brown curls cascaded over her face and they moved ever-so-slightly with each breath she drew. A little part of Alexander didn’t want to wake her. He imagined plucking her up, as he so often had Serena, and carrying her to her bed and tucking her in properly. Poor thing, really, was probably exhausted after today—

No. He wasn’t thinking like that.

“Hey,” he said, gently shaking her shoulder. “Hey… Wake up. You can’t stay here. Come on.”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

Something was moving her. She could feel taps against her shoulder and hear a slurred deep tone in her hazy delusional fog. Andi had just shut her eyes. She had shut her eyes just for a couple seconds and that was the plan because she needed to go home and go to sleep. The moon had been so beautiful though, the popcorn had been so tasty with all the butter and salt, and the wine had kept her at a warmly comfort that it would have been hard to not fall asleep. She had heard the sound and knew that it was a familiar voice and a real human being talking to her, touching her, but Andi Foster kept her eyes shut in a half dream half-awake state. She had not been in such a slumber that she could dream, but had managed to doze off into a blank dark daze that sent her in what seemed split seconds to this moment. She fought with her brain, wondering if she were awake or still asleep and if it was worth to fight the comfortable state she was in.

"Wake up. You can't stay here."

Andi crinkled her nose.

"Come on."

Fluttering her eyes open slowly at the voice, Andi Foster's eyes opened fully and she turned her head over slightly to look up. Instantly, her lips drew up into a faint smile at the vision of a familiar face. For some reason, she did not feel the need to shoot up or quickly regain composure. No, she was at a content place right now just like she was before she had managed to fall asleep for a short while. Who she met eyes with was Alexander Sokoll ,the man whom she had the delight of having one of the most interesting nights in Paris so far, and the first person at the Moulin Rouge to really acknowledge her existence and help her out. Andi considered him a good friend.

"Alexander." She purred in a tiredly surprised voice, picking up her hand that rested on her silk dress to reach out and place a gentle hand on his arm that had been poking at her. "Well, don't you look handsome?" She complimented casually in a delightful smile, always a sucker for a sharp man in a sharp looking suit. Andi never missed a beat to tell someone they looked good if she thought they did. It always seemed to brighten someone's mood and she knew she loved it herself. Though, right now, Andi didn't know if it was the white wine that tingled her pink cheeks to make her feel this way (though she was nowhere near a strong buzz but more of a warm content exhaustion), but it when she complimented him, it felt a little more deep and meaningful than a usual everyday compliment.

Andi instantly made a quick assumption that he had been at the party tonight. If the suit and the hour of night were not both a dead giveaway, it was the fact that he worked at the Moulin Rouge. If she wasn't mistaken, which could happen because she was human, but Andi had not been getting spontaneous pop corn blanketed shut eye for that long. It hadn't been that long since she had scurried off from the party beforehand. Did Alexander runaway from the party too?

Remaining calm and enjoying her position on the bench, she now thought the night was more enjoyable to add some company into the mix. She raised an eyebrow, taking her hand off of him and resting it to lie above her head. Andi's eyes looked up at her little window she had found between the trees to look up at the glimmering moon. "The moon is too pretty right now to leave." She told him with a breathy murmur, "Look at it."

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

As Andi Foster’s eyes fluttered open, Alexander realized he didn’t have a place to put her when she woke. He wondered if she lived near here, or if he would have to walk her across town or put her into a cab. There was no way he would let her stumble home alone in the dark, groggy from her nap. She might have been there on that park bench the entire time, instead of at that party, for all Alexander knew. He wondered if he should think her an ingrate, who thumbed her nose at parties hosted for her or if he ought to be sympathetic since he’d had a handful of galas in his honor during his Danseur Noble days that he would have given a lung to get out of attending.

“Alexander,” she purred, reaching out for his arm.

Her palm was sticky-warm against Alexander’s skin, but something cool ran up the length of his forearm. He could feel the hairs on his arm stand at attention.

"Well, don't you look handsome?" she said with a sleepy smile.

Alexander’s ears flushed and he fought off the urge to deny the compliment, as he so often had. His smile went crooked and he considered blurting out ‘I have kids!’ because it was always the best way to kill an awkward conversation before it got too awkward. Instead, he mumbled, “Thanks” as casually as he could and hoped the pink on his ears was hard to make out in the darkness. Andi Foster let go of Alexander’s arm and used her now-free hand to prop her head up.

"The moon is too pretty right now to leave," she told him with a breathy murmur, "Look at it."

Alexander looked up. The moon was the same moon every night. Right now at an almost-full state, it looked swollen and bright, like a pearl unearthed from the deepest ocean. There were no stars to be seen in the city light haze, but above the purplish clouds, the moon almost made up for it.

Good night, Moon. Good night, Stars…

“Stunning,” Alexander agreed, nodding. “But the moon will be here tomorrow night, too, you know.”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

"Stunning." Her friend agreed, and she blinked a warming smile, not feeling so alone tonight anymore.

Sure, it had been late, probably too late for her to be out and lying on street benches, and she should have just taken a taxi home if she were going to runaway from the party, but that would have been too blasé of an evening. Andi wanted to enjoy her night tonight, whether she was sleepy or not, because that was the type of girl she was. Now, gazing up at the moonlit sky, the formation of clouds as it looked like shapely decorations that were made for her eyes only, she felt grateful to have Alexander enjoying this moment with her. The Paris that Andi Foster had known for but a week didn't feel as lonely.

“But the moon will be here tomorrow night, too, you know."

It was a negative little point, but she brushed it off, rising from her lying position on the bench, still looking up at the sky with a gazing expression. "Yes, I know that." She murmured, and sighed, now sitting up. Rubbing her hands along her bare arms, not in the sense that she was cold, but a feeling of embrace, she sighed, "But If I kept living like that, then all my 'todays' wouldn't be half as enjoyable."

Andi Foster smirked in a silly crooked way, turning her head to look behind her up at him. "You're more than welcome to plop a squat next to me."

[plantnerd92]

OOC: Open! Here is Charly's debut! BIC:

Charly Hazard

She needed nicotine. She'd gone far too long without a case, and she was bored and irritable. She walked into a drug store, and bought several packages of nicotine patches, and when she got out of the store, she opened one with trembling fingers, and slapped three patches on her arm. It took a while for it to kick in, but eventually she settled down.

Now all she needed to do was find a place where she could get some good-quality tea. She had yet to meet the detectives on the French police force, but she figured she needed to do that soon. Granted, she had only gotten to Paris a few days ago, but it was enough to set her teeth on edge without a case she could fall into right away.

Charly wondered if Paris would have any Thai or Indian restaurants. Even Fish n'Chips would be wonderful, but it didn't seem likely that France would have anything other than their world class cooking. Instead, she found a little restaurant, and ordered some roast duck with a side of asparagus, and a slice of a dark chocolate raspberry torte, needing to indulge just a little. As she sat and ate, Charly took in her surroundings, and began analyzing everything she saw, unable to help herself. She made observations of the people there, her mind filing away every little detail, down to the flecks of lint on their clothes. Paris could be quite interesting once she settled in.

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

The moon was basically the only cosmic body that could be seen in the Paris sky. It dawned on Alexander, as he stared at it now with Andi Foster, that his children had never seen stars. Born in Paris, and raised between Manhattan and Paris, they were used to skyscrapers and helicopters glowing against the blackened night. Stars were for storybooks. But the moon was constant. Every night—except on the nights of the new moon—it came without fail to watch over everybody and everything. It was reliable. Goodhearted.

"Yes, I know that," Andi Foster said with a sigh. She sat up and rubbed her arms as if chilly. "But If I kept living like that, then all my 'todays' wouldn't be half as enjoyable."

Alexander frowned. Just because the moon was dependable, didn’t make it any less beautiful. In fact, its constancy was what he liked about the moon. He did wish for some stars, though. That would dress the sky up just a little more, add a little sparkling something to the night.

"You're more than welcome to plop a squat next to me."

“Thanks,” Alexander said, taking the spot beside her. The bench was warm where Andi Foster had been lying moments ago. He looked back up. They really did need some stars and this would be a cut out from someone else’s more magical life. “Congratulations, by the way. On your debut. I was gonna tell you at the party, but this is better.”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster


“Thanks.”

Andi smiled in welcome when he took the room next to her on the bench. She hadn’t been seeking out company tonight desperately or anything but having someone else’s arm just inches away made the moment feel less like a dramatically profound moment as she gazed up at the stars and more just like two pals sitting and looking at some of Paris's assets together.

She turned her head at him and gazed at his profile that was awash in the lustrous moonlight. He was that type of attractive that made someone question their own level of attractiveness. It didn’t make her feel insecure, because she wasn’t like that, but it made her eyes linger moments longer than she should been. Breaking the daze, Andi allowed her eyes to get lost upward again, shaking off whatever the hell that was just then. So someone was good looking, get over it.

“Congratulations, by the way. On your debut. I was gonna tell you at the party, but this is better.” He said to her, perking her shoulders up. So, he had gotten away from the party after all. Andi should have waited a few more minutes and they could have escorted one another out. She wondered why he had left. Was that scene not for him either?

"Thank you," Andi said, looking again at him, "I appreciate it." Then, looking down at her hands she toyed with her thumbs on her lap. Maybe she shouldn't have darted out like that with nothing but a bag of popcorn as a memory but it all felt so fake in that room that she couldn't breathe with all the suffocating plastic faces that mingled and praised. If he was going to talk to her at the party then he obviously noticed how she wasn't there. Maybe it seemed arrogant or rude, but she had her reasons.

"Yeah..." She trailed off, shrugging and looking up. "I just couldn't really stand being there. Made my skin crawl." Andi then smiled thoughtfully and her body slid against the bench until her neck was resting on the top of the bench, making a comfortable wooden headrest. "I use to dream about walking into a party like that, and all the flashes in my face-" She admitted and then shrugged. "But now I guess I just want my work to speak for itself."

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

Alexander’s brown eyes met Andi Foster’s blue green ones. He smiled at her, wondering if really this was better. At the gala, he could have said something like, “Congrats, you were great!” before someone else—someone more important than a lowly house mom—swept her up for champagne or conversation. He wouldn’t have to worry about keeping his jealousy under lock and key and instead would only have to worry about having enough time to blurt out something nice.

But the night breeze felt good on his skin and there was something strangely heartwarming about sitting with his competition (even after the competition was long over and Andi Foster was made reigning champ) and talking as if they were friends. And maybe they were. Alexander didn’t want to ask. How awkward would that be? How pathetic?

"Thank you," she said, looking over at him. "I appreciate it."

Alexander smiled and then looked out at the road. A few stray gypsy cabs rolled along the cobbled stones, looking for passengers. Across the street, away from their serene, little scene, a man and woman were smoking cigarettes outside of a wine shop with a metal, store-front grate that indicated closing time had already passed. He wondered how late he could get away with staying out. As badly as he wanted to get home and kiss the twins goodnight, he wanted to make everything with Andi Foster somehow less awkward. He couldn’t help but to think this was a moment where “carpe diem” applied.

"Yeah..." Andi Foster said. Alexander looked over at her. She was staring up at the sky and the moonlight hit her hair. Before tonight, Alexander had thought her to be a brunette, but now as the moon pulled out strands of red, he could see he had been mistaken. "I just couldn't really stand being there. Made my skin crawl."

She slid down the bench, slouching, and suddenly Alexander felt sorry for her. He was an old pro at these gala things. He wondered if this was her first rodeo.

"I use to dream about walking into a party like that, and all the flashes in my face-" She admitted and then shrugged. "But now I guess I just want my work to speak for itself."

“Tell me about it,” Alexander said. “When I used to dance at the Garnier…”

He trailed off and shook his head. Not just when he used to dance. When he used to be Danseur Noble. He remembered a time when the prima ballerina pulled him into her dressing room for a post-show chat after The Nutcracker and all the gossip he’d had to wade through at the Christmas Gala. He also could recall the dizzying flash of cameras, the questions as to who was on his arm that night—even if that someone was just a friend. He remembered thinking that he was an artist and that the nonsense that came along with it—the years of anonymity, working your *ss off, followed by a too-bright flash in the limelight—was just distraction from the actual art. He remembered hating that part and wishing that art magazines would ask him questions about his training and technique and not if there was a ‘special lady’ in his life. It was part of why he and Esperanza had fled to New York when they did. And it was why Alexander suddenly felt very grateful for his base position as house mom. At least this way, his kids would have half a hope of a normal childhood.

Alexander cleared his throat. He didn’t want Andi to know he was a dancer. He didn’t want anyone who didn’t already know what he had been to know. He didn’t want to seem too dissatisfied, like he had settled or was missing out. He didn’t want pity. He just wanted to make a living and keep custody of his kids. And if that meant he was barred from working his dream jobs, so be it.

“I mean, it must drive you nuts,” he said. “That people would rather prod you for, like, gossip and stuff instead of choreography tips.”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

Alexander may have not gotten where Andi was coming from and that was okay. From the outside looking in, if she wasn't thrown into this world yet, she would tell herself to suck it up and enjoy the hell out of it! It's like, stop complaining, at least she got to be a choreographer at the Moulin Rouge. People would kill for her job and she was lucky to have it. Still, Andi wasn't prepared for it all and apart of her missed back in New York City when in the flashes, she had no name. Now, it was being plastered among newspapers. Being known was a dream of hers, because who didn't want to be popular and known at one point? It really didn't matter to her. What mattered was that the people of Paris enjoyed the performance tonight. Hopefully Alexander would at least not think she was ungrateful or anything. Not that Andi Foster usually cared what other people thought to a great extent, but for some reason, to be a cool person in his eyes meant a lot.

“Tell me about it,” Alexander said in a relatable way that made her look over at him, not expecting that kind of understanding. “When I used to dance at the Garnier…”

Andi's body perked up, looking over at him in a happy surprise. She did not know about that! Well, there were many things both of them didn't know about each other, but she just didn't expect that Alexander would have danced. Which, she really should just start expecting the unexpected because everything was taking her for a whirlwind of a ride lately, beginning with her actually getting the job in the first place. She wondered what made him quit dancing and take his current job at the Moulin Rouge. Maybe that's what he was truly passionate about? He was interesting to her, and her body turned over to him ready to hear all about it. Did he understand her more than she had given him credit for? Andi wanted to hear all about dancing at the Garnier and his past training. It was a topic they could both relate to. It was always great to meet a fellow dancer.

“I mean, it must drive you nuts,” He said, making Andi have topic whiplash. “That people would rather prod you for, like, gossip and stuff instead of choreography tips.” Since when did they go back to that? He couldn't just skip over all the details when he revealed stuff like that! Did he not think that it was topic worthy or something?

"No, no, no..." Andi murmured, holding out a hand to stop him, "Go back." She told him, lifting her leg onto the bench to slip it under her other thigh, leaning her elbow against the bench to look at him full on now. "You've got to spill about this being a dancer at the Garnier."

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

Alexander didn’t want to talk about dancing at the Garnier. When he had danced at the Garnier, he’d been a young man. He’d been single, childless, and ambitious. At twenty-five, the dance world had been at his finger (toe?) tips. At twenty-seven, it had been his. But now, at thirty one, it all seemed distant and painful. Reminders of Esperanza lurked in every crevice of his first years in Paris. She’d been his dance partner long before he was promoted; his best friend long before she was his wife. To talk about those times would inevitably turn into a conversation in which Alexander reflected on a time when he was happier than he was now and nostalgia would turn to sadness and sadness to bitterness. Once, Alexander had been Paris’ most sought after dancer. He had been famous all over the country, maybe even Europe. And now he was nobody. And that hurt.

It wasn’t even not being famous that hurt. It hurt that all the job opportunities offered to him, bright shiny beautiful opportunities, were gone. They were offered to other people, younger people. People like Andi Foster. He didn’t think there was much hope for him if he couldn’t find a job as a dancer or choreographer at thirty-one. Soon enough, he’d be forty and his body would be considered broken, husk-like. Useless. He wouldn’t be any better than a house mom ever again and he didn’t want to think about what that would mean for the future of his little family.

Tonight was going so well, Alexander didn’t want that to weigh it down.

But there was no way Andi Foster hadn’t heard him say it. He could pray and hope and wish on the non-visible stars all he wanted, but she most definitely had heard him.

"No, no, no..." she said, holding out a hand to silence him. She curled up on the bench and leaned to look at him. "Go back. You've got to spill about this being a dancer at the Garnier."

“Nah,” Alexander said, lolling his head back and forth. “You don’t wanna hear about that. It was a long time ago. Tonight’s your night. Let’s talk about you.”

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

"Nah." Alexander responded, his head tossing back and forth turning down her question. Andi furrowed a brow wondering why it was something that he didn't want to talk about? She assumed that reliving Garnier days couldn't be painful. “You don’t wanna hear about that." He didn't know what she wanted to talk about. Andi wouldn't have asked if she didn't want to know. She really did want to hear about him. Other people's lives intrigued her. Alexander intrigued her.

She wasn't going to sit there and reassure him that he was interesting or nag on him because she wanted to hear about him. Maybe he was seriously just more in the mood to talk about her innocently enough, but Andi was still not feeling like that was the case. Had she touched a sore spot or what?

"It was a long time ago. Tonight’s your night. Let’s talk about you.”

Letting out a laugh, Andi shook her head, "It's not my night, it's..." She protested softly, the sentence dying. Looking down at the white fabric of her dress she couldn't help but feel like tonight had been a let down. In it, she felt pretty but on the inside something wasn't sitting right. Andi didn't get to dress up like this often. Yet, she knew she wouldn't enjoy herself at that party tonight. That party that celebrated her debut. That party that all she got out of was a popcorn baggie. Andi Foster couldn't say it wasn't her night. It was suppose to be her night, but she had rejected it. Her thumbs traced along the fabric and she smiled warmly, musing to herself for a moment. Andi had finally gotten the dress that she had always wanted to wear to a party she always wanted to have. So, why didn't it work out?

"It's like, you imagine moments in your head," Andi finally said, her eyes glazed over in thought, looking still at the fabric of her dress. "you figure how you'd react to things and-" She let out a quiet weak laugh, shrugging.

Getting a little irritated at how she was acting so mopey, she shook herself out of her thoughts, wiping a hand against her forehead. "I'm getting all deeply thoughtful. It's gotta' be this bench." Plucking up a kernel from the bench, she examined it with a silly smirk, "Or maybe the popcorn."

Andi flicked it at Alexander.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: in response to Charly! BiC:


Rafael Lamaroux

There were only so many things Rafael knew how to cook. For example, he had recently learned how to boil water. He had heard there were lots of things one could do with boiled water, but what, Rafael didn’t know. So the water ended up down the drain or put to a heating pack for sore muscles. So Rafael was here, looking for foodstuffs to appease his grumbling stomach. That was how he ended up on the Champs Elysees, walking up and down again and again, looking for grub.

He had tried several already, having crammed his Parisian experience all within his first week here. But that was five years ago (including the year he spent abroad in Iraq), and he had lost track on which ones had tickled his taste buds and which ones hadn’t. So he settled on a little restaurant that looked promising enough.

Once seated, he ordered himself a sandwich; nothing too big, just enough to fill him up sufficiently. When it came—quickly, thank Baryshnikov—he looked hopelessly for ketchup. It was a rare find in Paris, but today seemed to be his lucky day, for right at the adjacent table was a women who was in possession of unused, neglected, idle ketchup. He considered asking her for some, but how rude was that? Just asking someone for their ketchup, like he was entitled or something. Might as well make polite conversation first, so he didn’t sound so forceful. So he leaned over, just slightly enough to get her attention.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, sounding far more American than he intended, “ but have you seen ’The Avengers’? Man, it was great, I tell you. That Tony Stark, he is smoking! I mean, I would think so if I was a woman… or a gay man, come to think of it. Did you know that Tony Stark and the Captain got married in the original comics? So that sexual tension in the film actually makes sense, if you think about it. Have you ever thought about it? I have. Great movie. You know, the first movie was of a train pulling into the station. It was 18 seconds long. The film, not the train.” Rafael stopped for breath. “Say, did you ever wonder what took the picture of the first camera? Was there a second camera? If so, the picture must have been taken a long while after the first camera was made. Or maybe it was aliens. That’s my theory. So, really, what I’m getting at is, ma’am… can I use your ketchup?”

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

Alexander hoped Andi Foster would just drop it. He’d have to tell her—if he told her about the Garnier days—why he left and where he went and why he couldn’t go back. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, he guessed. He wasn’t exactly banished from the premises or anything that dramatic, but Alexander didn’t have the strength of will to return. And who wanted to admit to that? Who wanted to talk about their dead wife and their lost opportunities with the woman who was the one thing standing in their way of creating a new career? Alexander didn’t want to spend the night sad about what might have been or angry at Andi Foster for having what he wanted.

Andi Foster laughed and shook her head. Alexander really, really hoped that meant they were switching topics.

“It’s not my night,” Andi Foster protested.

Alexander made a soft “Hmph” sound, skeptical at that idea. It was totally her night. The whole party was designed to celebrate her and even if she was miserable about it, she had made an escape to do what she wanted. It was her night. She won over the hearts of Paris and she triumphed over parties hosted by the management. Andi Foster: 2 Paris: 1 and Alexander Sokoll: 0.

“It’s like, you imagine moments in your head. You figure how you’d react to things and…” She laughed faintly and shrugged. “I’m getting all deeply thoughtful. It’s gotta be this bench. … Or maybe the popcorn.”

A fluffy, crunchy thing hit Alexander’s shoulder. He watched the popcorn roll down his suit jacket and he looked up at Andi Foster, who had thrown it in the first place. Alexander’s eyes flickered almost playfully and he grabbed his shoulder as though wounded.

“Oh, you got me!”

And he scanned his side of the bench for a piece to toss back. The gauntlet had been thrown and Alexander wasn’t one to let the challenge rest when it came to a good popcorn fight. He released his “wounded” shoulder and picked up a stray piece that Andi Foster must have dropped earlier in the night. Alexander launched it at her and it hit her on the collar bone. Now this was a battle.

[Deleted]

Andi Foster

Alexander was one of the first Andi had spoken to when she came to Paris. It would be nice to have a friend like him, and she wasn't about to get on a soap box and start rambling on an emotional tangent. She wasn't going to chat on things that he wasn't with comfortable with either. Andi Foster didn't tip toe around people, but she was going to tread lightly because for some reason that she couldn't figure but feel, she wanted to be around this man more in the future. What better way to reel him in like making him a popcorn target?

As if wounded, his eyes glittered over at her with something close to enjoyment. He put a hand to his 'hurt' shoulder. "Oh, you got me!"

Andi laughed, her head falling backward as she laughed up into the sky. Before she opened her eyes, a kernel hit right against her collar bone, shooting her head forward in surprise. She gasped, clutching a hand to her chest, and flailing herself to the side to lie down, moaning but grinning wildly. It should be against the law to have this much fun.

"I've been wounded!" She winced, and gracefully flew a long hand backward to reach over her head and down on the cement. She felt around with her fingers until she plucked up a kernel. Deviously she ran her tongue across her front teeth and sat up quickly, throwing an arm across his shoulders to bring herself close to him. Andi's nose was inches away from his cheek and she held the kernel in front of his mouth, her hand around his shoulders gripping him to keep him still, or at least do that the best she could. Whether it would keep him in place was not a certain deal because he probably was way stronger than she was. The feel of his bicep told her so. Andi's chest bumped up against his arm, and she hadn't intended to notice the way he smelled and felt but it just seemed to happen that way.

"Surrender," She murmured with squinted eyes, teasing with a dramatically 'evil' tone, "or I shall force you to eat the kernel bomb."

[The Exodus]

Alexander Sokoll

Alexander didn’t have this much fun with other grown-ups. Ray not included, because he was not and would never be “grown up”. What Alexander had found once he crossed the threshold from boy to man was that adults got together for dinner parties and cocktails and gossipy gripe sessions, but just goofing off was either too childish or too intimate for most. He and Esperanza could have gotten away with acting like children and no one would fault them. Instead, lookers-on would call them twiterpated, enamored, in love. He and Ray couldn’t get away with acting like children, but they did any way because when they were ten, they’d made themselves blood brothers in Rafael’s backyard.

And now, here was Andi, throwing popcorn at him in a park.

It was grossly unfair, too, since she had a half-eaten arsenal and Alexander was left scrounging for bits and pieces she’d dropped.

When the kernel Alexander had thrown her way hit Andi, she cried out, "I've been wounded!" and Alexander set back to work, grinning, and looking for more popcorn to throw.

But then, almost out of nowhere, he felt a slender, firm hand hold his shoulder. It wouldn’t have been hard to wrench away, but it startled Alexander enough to make him stop. He looked over to see Andi inching in towards his face and holding aloft a piece of popcorn that seemed to be covered in dirt.

"Surrender," she hissed mock-threateningly. "or I shall force you to eat the kernel bomb."

In the last four years, Alexander had learned two things from being a dad. First, that when you tell a kid “don’t touch that”, you know it will be touched the second you turn your head. And second, a little dirt didn’t hurt.

“You think you scare me with your threat,” Alexander said, mustering up his best Superman voice. “But I shall not surrender. Do your worst.”