Magic May Or Not Happen

Time ticks on in Montmartre. The climate warms imperceptibly. It is almost lunch time.

 No one has come back yet.

Gaius and Carl Linnaeus are thinking of moving.

Just round the corner, says Gaius. I believe I smell crêpes.

Shall we move there? The others will find us, says Carl Linnaeus.

They could hardly miss YOU, says Gaius.

That's the idea, says Carl Linnaeus, lifting his feet up.

His curly-toed Sami boots attract several glances.

Gaius stands up. When Carl follows suit, his Sami belt jangles.

What ARE those items on your belt? asks Gaius.

Lucky amulets, says Carl Linnaeus. And this is my magical drum.

I don't believe that, says Gaius.

And here, says Carl Linnaeus, is my signature flower.

He opens a scrimshawed bone pot, and whips out a tiny pink flower.

Very nice, says Gaius. Is it plastic?

Take a close look, says Carl. Do you know it?

Yes I know it. The twin flower, Linnaea borealis.

A passer-by whistles. Hoo! Les Plinys du Nord, vous deux!

Really, says Gaius. It's too ridiculous. How are we in any way similar? Let's get those crêpes before anything else happens.

They go round the corner, to find Arthur and Dries already tucking into crêpes.

Ah, there you are, says Gaius. What are the crêpes like?

Very good, says Dries, but overpriced, naturally.

Carl has been showing me his trinkets, says Gaius. A scrimshawed bone knife, amulets and his magical drum. Show them, Carl, and perhaps you'll explain how the drum works.

When you strike it, says Carl, magic may or not happen.

May or may not, says Arthur.

May or may not, yes. I see your knees are inflamed, says Carl.

Sometimes they bleed, says Arthur.

They only bleed when he scrapes them on gravel, or falls off a bicycle, says Gaius.

He didn't do either of those, says Dries.

Try one of my lucky amulets, says Carl. You can give it back later.

He hands Arthur an amulet. Arthur slips it into his pocket.

Ting! It lands on an old knitting needle. Thank you.

Where's Pablo? asks Dries. I'm supposed to keep him in sight at all times.

We don't know, says Gaius. Perhaps you should ask Océane.

Time ticks on in Montmartre. The climate warms imperceptibly.

Pablo and Océane haven't come back yet.

Carl strikes his drum with his crêpe fork.

Ah! Here they come now!