Tarik
June 15, 8:08 pm, Paris, France
"I swear, I didn't choose this place."
Tarik wanted to believe Elodie. He wanted to trust her; if not for his own sake, for Gadiel's.
But the fact that he was back here of all places was making him think that she was purposefully trying to torture him.
A little while ago, atop the roof of the Notre-Dame, Tarik had sighed.
"Fine," he relented. "I'll protect you from the French government. It's not like I have a choice now."
He gazed up at the sky, the clouds tainted purple under the blazing orange sky as the sun set. Even up here, the dirty scent of cigarettes and urine permeated the air.
Yet, somehow, all of this relaxed him.
He had missed this place. Just a little. It had been his escape from Nice, after all.
Once he had calmed himself down, he stood up once more, and looked back down at Elodie.
"So," he started, "what did you dream about?"