Sartre and Sweezus are still in the bar carriage, drinking beer.
Which may be unwise.
Trains have ears.
Or so Sartre is telling Sweezus.
I know, says Sweezus. but it's not like we're talking about the rescue.
Or who we're to rescue, says Sartre.
Or what with, says Sweezus.
Ears prick up.
Not the train's ears, but the ears of a couple nearby.
They have watched the Tour de France on tv and recognised Sweezus.
Excusez-moi, says the man.
No worries, says Sweezus.
Aren't you the captain of Team Condor? asks the man.
Yeah, says Sweezus. How did you know?
We saw you on the tv, says the man.
And you too, says the woman, looking directly at Sartre.
I was not in it, says Sartre.
Yes you were, says the woman. In Team Philosophe.
That was not me, says Sartre.
Pardon, says the woman. You look like one of those guys.
Which one? asks Sartre.
If it wasn't you, it doesn't matter, says the woman.
I was in Team Existentialiste years ago, says Sartre. Perhaps you know me from then?
Team Existentialiste? says the man. Are you.... Jean Paul Sartre?
I am, says Sartre.
Do you still ride a bike? asks the woman.
Rarely, says Sartre. But I'm taking a bike to Barcelona.
We both are, says Sweezus.
To rescue someone? asks the man.
I think it's meant to be a secret, says the woman.
So they were listening!
I shall be blogging it, says Sartre. In fact I've already begun. You can follow me, if you wish to.
Super! says the woman. What's it called?
There'll be a link in Velosophy, says Sweezus.
Yes but what's it called? asks the woman.
Existence precedes Essence, says Sartre.
Maybe you should call it Rescue In Barcelona, suggests the man.
Or The Secret Mission, says the woman.
Or The Imposter, says Sweezus. How about that?
Sartre looks at him, severely.
Not you , says Sweezus. The bear.
The man and woman look at one another.
Quoi? Are they planning to rescue a bear?