As the plane descended into Champs les Sims, Dylan couldn’t help but snap photographs. It had been a long time since he’d engaged in serious photography. I wasn’t prepared for how wonderful it felt to have a camera in his hands again.
The family settled into their hotel.
Andria had plans for the day, and they started with a picturesque spot to fish.
And some study.
And the purchase of a few choice ingredients.
Sawyer was left to his own devices. He had no plans until the beginning of the conference, so he was immediately bored.
His boredom didn’t last long, however. It turned out that the lush countryside was the perfect inspiration for new avenues of genetic research.
Dylan found Edmund unpacking his suitcase. “There is one place in Champs les Sims that you would never forgive yourself for missing,” he said.
Edmund raised his eyebrows. “And that would be?”
“The Musee d’Arte of course! You must accompany me for the afternoon.
Edmund couldn’t possibly refuse. Art was the one passion he could always share with his father.
They took the scenic route so that Dylan could find the perfect place for a photograph.
Edmund was completely unprepared for how magical the museum was. The art was gathered from all over the simworld, past and present. He could lose himself here for years.
“Wow, Dad. Thank you. I had no idea .”
Dylan smiled. “Your father still knows a few things that matter,” he said.
“What is the policy about photography?” Edmund asked. “Some pictures here could turn into some very valuable prints.”
Dylan smirked a little bit. “I already did that, son. There are a few hanging in the house. You should take a closer look.”
“Oh, really?” Edmund said. “Wait.”
“Wait what?” Dylan asked.
“Wait. Who is she?”
Dylan nudged his son. “Go find out. I know when I’m superfluous.”
Dylan drifted over to the woman as if pulled by an invisible string. “Hi, um, I’m Edmund Sample. I hope it isn’t too forward to ask for your name?” He really wasn’t very good at talking to strangers.
Her name was Belle Girard. Though he’d never know it, her grandmother had almost married his great-grandfather Charles. It turned out that the attraction passed down through the generations.
When he had to leave for lunch, He had Belle’s phone number, and they both looked forward to meeting again.
Sawyer’s conference began in the afternoon with a keynote speech, given of course by Sawyer himself. Sawyer was the best known neurosurgeon in the simworld, and he considered it his due.
Of course, a neuroscience conference in the land of love wasn’t quite what Sawyer was used to. The attendees behaved in rather inappropriate ways.
The room was nearly empty when he began his opening remarks. He would have considered that an insult, but the attendees rushed to hear him a few minutes later.
And was the best speech he had ever given, if he did say so himself.
Though the sound system left a lot to be desired.
Sawyer had to admit that the next presentation was almost as interesting as his.
At least, Sawyer found it interesting. Some people at this conference just didn’t seem to have neuroscience on the mind at all.
The men returned home to find Andria hard at work.
“Here you are!” she declared as they wandered in through the door. “Dinner is served!”
Sawyer stared dubiously at the elegantly plated meal. “What form of nourishment is this?”
“Frog legs, of course,” Andria said. “I’ve been longing to learn how to make it, but they’re best with fresh-caught frogs from France.” She gave Sawyer a warning look. “Everyone will be tasting this fine french delicacy, even you.”
Sawyer, huffed and sat down.
Even he had to admit that the frog’s legs were delicious.
As they finished their meal, another pair of tourists pounced on them. “Are you real Avalonians? We’ve never seen any before! We must have a picture.”
“What did you think?” Andria asked Dylan as they cleaned up.
“Magnificent, just like the chef,” he said with a suave smile, pulling her to him.
“Perhaps we should continue this in privacy,” Dylan suggested and led her upstairs.
“You remember?” Andria said. “I think the first night of our honeymoon was in this very room. Our first time.”
“Well, not the first,” Dylan said. “The second time. I remember these things.”
“We’re not done making memories,” Andria said.
So, Belle Girard is, of course, Berthe Girard, the homeless premade French firefighter who was such a good rival for Veronica that I created a mate poll for Charles. Since I long since deleted all my travel files, she was regenerated. I really like her and her genes. She’s a Clumsy, Brave firefighter, which is such an entertaining combination.
Edmund picks up romantic interests wherever he goes :).
Grump. So far, I haven’t been able to make the smaller, bordered images I was using for Dylan’s photographs to work. I guess the images that I ported over from Blogspot probably look wrong too. Sigh.