You walk leisurely through the streets of Paris, careful not to draw attention to yourself or draw suspicion. After all, you’re a woman dressed as a man in 1920. It makes sense to be careful.

A man interrupts your thoughts as he appears from an alleyway and slams into you. He seems to be running from something. He grabs your hat, accent sharp.

“Apologies, Monsieur, if you’d just allow me to borrow-“

He pauses, eyes lingering and widening with curiosity. A smirk tugs at his lips.