Chapter XXVII: Content Isn’t Always Enough
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“I was content in my ignorance, Fidèle.”
Poète grumbled, trudging down the street a few feet behind Fidèle.
“That’s exactly the problem, Poe. Sometimes ‘content’ isn’t good enough.”
Fidèle replied, glancing over her shoulder at him.
“It was ‘good enough’ for me.”
Poète shrugged.
Fidèle snorted.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDan30i6tXC
“Have you looked in the mirror recently? Your bar for ‘good enough’ is on the floor.”
She laughed with what Poète thought was a shred of pity in her eyes.
Poète tilted his head.
“What if I live in a basement and you live above ground? Then our concepts of what the ground is would be different, poupée!”
He piped up, increasing his pace to match hers.
Fidèle rolled back her shoulders, turning her head slightly to face him.
“Well then, since you want to get into hypotheticals… what if the basement floods? It rains a lot in London.”
She argued, shoving her hand into her coat pocket.
Poète thought for a moment, his thumb brushing over the missing tip of his index finger.
“Oh dear… then I suppose I’ll have no choice but to go to the next floor up.”
He sighed as if he was rambling about current circumstances rather than a metaphor.
Fidèle narrowed her eyes.
“But you said that I lived on the floor above your basement.”
She contested, pulling her hand out of her pocket to gesture at him.
Poète traced the edge of his coat.
“Oh dear… Oh! What if the house had multiple floors?”
Poète suggested sheepishly.
Fidèle started trotting faster.
“You’re overthinking it, Poe.”33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjJmFITECuq
“You’re underthinking it, cherie!”
He called after her.
Fidèle started laughing as she turned a corner, her voice echoing down the street.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNdsNzQvQbl
“That’s a first.”
“What’re you talking about, mon cher?”
Poète called, hurrying after her.
“Frèdèric always said that I over complicated things.”
Fidèle admitted lightheartedly, her voice cracking slightly.
“It’s all about perspective, I suppose, Fidèle. Frèdèric did always take things at face value.”
Poète ventured.
Fidèle huffed, mock awe heavy in her voice.
“And yet, he became a lawyer…!”
She imitated, adjusting an imaginary necktie.
“And yet… he became a lawyer.”
Poète echoed, stepping in front of her.
Fidèle observed him with hooded eyes.
“...Bonjour.”
“Where are you going?”
Poète asked, leaning down to Fidèle’s level.
Fidele shrugged, tugging on her sleeve.
“Exploring.”
She stated.
Poète tilted his head, raising his eyebrows.
“Without me? I thought you didn’t trust me alone, cherie.”33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLYHd9Y0A0S
He remarked.
Fidèle crossed her arms, drumming her gloved fingers on her wrist.
“I knew you’d follow me, Poe.”
She revealed with a slow cat-like blink.
His face colored mildly and he tugged on his already popped collar.
“Oh dear… I suppose so, cherie."33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrMNiHOARf7
and then Add to home screen.