OOM: To the labyrinth with Bossuet

[cook_the_rude]

At the top of a hill, there is a door, set into the hill-face.

The lake is shimmering in the distance, and the Scottish summer is in full effect.

But the door in the hillside might still be considered boding.

"Not making any Dante puns," Dr. Lecter declares, gesturing to the door invitingly.

Comments

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Ah, yes, the pole-arms. Bossuet pulls his eyes away from one of the automobiles--it must be the omnibus of the future, from the way people got on and off--and scratches his beard. "We'll tell them we're on our way to a party, and absolutely not an émeute. The bourgeois will be immensely reassured."

[cook_the_rude]

"We shouldn't eat or drink anything in there," Dr. Lecter says, eyeing the establishment.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"I wasn't planning on it." In fact, he's already feeling rather strange, beyond just the confusion of this very unfamiliar Paris: it's hard to keep his mind off the fact that he's really quite dead. "But by all means, let us find a door."

The Quality Burger Restaurant does not have any rules in place about swords and lances. But when they go in, they get a very strong eyeing from the employees. A manager will likely show up soon.

[cook_the_rude]

"Let's go to the back of this place and see if there is a door that looks like the labyrinth doors," Dr. Lecter says.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Bossuet's used to dirty looks from disapproving café owners. He strolls on through, smiling politely. But the back leads only to the kitchen--and he's not foolhardy enough to intrude there without a better plan than smile and nod--and to a very ordinary set of restrooms.

[cook_the_rude]

Much cleaner restrooms, though, than Bossuet might be used to in his own time.

"It looks like a dead end," Dr. Lecter declares, opening the door to the gentlemen's.

Some employees are eyeing the two of them with great alarm.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Yes, back in the good old days at the Musain one had a choice of relieving oneself in the back alley or...no, that was it, really.

"It does look like a dead end. I'm--" Oh, dear. Bossuet may be capable of embarrassment after all. "I'm willing to put my head into the ladies', er...the ladies' department...if you think we'd better for the sake of thoroughness. Or we could try something else."

Here comes a manager.

[cook_the_rude]

"Something else," Dr. Lecter says, turning rapidly.

He politely nods to the manager and marches towards the exit, spear, sword and all.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Do let's."

Bossuet nods equally politely. So sorry to disturb everyone at this delightful eatery, and they were just on their way out the door after all.

At least the gawking teenagers outside have moved off. He refrains from attacking the poor inoffensive tree anyway. "Well. Shall we try to find a map to match this Paris to my own? Perhaps our next attempt will require visiting a greengrocer's or a fishwife's stand. Or a milliner's; do they still have milliners?" Everyone seems rather short on hats, now that he thinks about it. It's a shame. Milliners' establishments always had such charming shopgirls.

[cook_the_rude]

"Only a very few, for high fashion, or the very, very old-fashioned," Dr. Lecter says. "A bookshop might be a good option; we can buy the map and then find other landmarks you remember."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"A lovely notion, if either of us has any money. I'm sadly deficient there. --Or, wait, they've instituted public libraries now, haven't they?"

He looks remarkably hopeful at the thought. Public libraries! With books, for free, that anyone can wander off the street to read!

[cook_the_rude]

"They do," Dr. Lecter says. "We should not, however, try to take a map outside. A bookshop might be better, especially if my credit card works here."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Ah, credit. There was once a time when people cared to sell me things on credit. Such happy times."

A bookshop is a fine idea. Bossuet sets off down the street in search of one. But sooner or later (probably sooner) he's going to have to work out how to cross a street filled with cars.

[cook_the_rude]

"We can't stop the cars with our lances," Lecter remarks. "Theoretically, we should go and cross at those coloured lights; they signal who mustt stop and who can go."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"How very sensible." He's looking a little twitchy again: it's one thing to look at cars from a shop entrance and another thing to look at them while you're trying to cross a street. And then there's the people on velocipedes. "After you, I think."

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter waits for a moment.

"Now," he says, and simply crosses the street.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Oh sure, make it look easy, why don't you. Lesgle lopes along after him, lance on his shoulder, grinning a slightly brittle grin. They have to make it down two more blocks before they find a bookstore; this time their weaponry gets looks that are more curious than alarmed. It is, in fact, a bookshop both large and useful, with not only current maps but a decent (if touristy) section on historical Paris.

[cook_the_rude]

It is quite a large bookshop, and Dr. Lecter wanders deeper into it, drawn by the promise of used books. Apparently, that is something he can't resist.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

He's not alone. Bossuet's progress gets slower and slower as he stops to admire covers--and then to read titles--and then to pick up one or two books just briefly and glance through them--

Ahem. He trundles along again to catch up.

In fact, there's an entire downstairs section for second-hand books. It has that smell of air that doesn't move around much; unlike the tempting displays of the front, the books here are wedged into a maze of bookshelves and small rooms. Bossuet has a current map tucked under his elbow, but he's also accumulated a few volumes along the way. Not that he's planning to put them on Lecter's credit card, or anything, it's just--he's just looking, all right?

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter ambles alongside, lance and sword in one hand, growing stack of books under the other arm.

"Oh look, here is a second edition of..."

The books simply seem to accrete as they wander the downstairs section.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle pauses at one shelf, drawn by some familiar names. As he juggles his lance, map, and the stack of books under his elbow it becomes harder to pretend to himself that he's just looking. He coughs apologetically and holds up a copy of Notre Dame de Paris. "I'll, ah...I'll pay you back...? I didn't finish reading it, and..." He goes on to mumble something indistinct about "Hernani" and "overrated."

((Shall we find them a labyrinth/Milliways door somewhere down here once they've had a nice browse in the shop?))

[cook_the_rude]

For some reason, Dr. Lecter laughs briefly at that choice. "Absolutely, take it along," he says. "Oh look, a map from 1825 -- now we are talking!"

It joins his own stack.


[[OOC: That's the idea! L-Space, and all that...]]

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Ah, bravo. Eureka. Now--if we can only find a table to spread these out on, see if I can match them up... It really is a warren down here, isn't it." Even the lighting seems different in this part of the downstairs; and when did they last see a customer or a shopkeeper?

Maybe he should break out one of his balls of thread after all. Or at least put his head through one of these doors and see if it turns out to be a staircase.

[cook_the_rude]

"A table would be very helpful, yes," Dr. Lecter says, taking a deep breath.

"Or, you know, open that door."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Or that. Lesgle pins his miscellaneous books under an elbow and frees a hand to scrabble at the doorknob. With an inelegant flourish he gets it open and steps into--another part of the bookshop? There's a half-familiar carpet, though, and when he looks around the corner Lesgle finds himself staring at a wait-rat.

"...The library, I believe."