The side streets of Paris were notorious. It was generally good advice to stay to the main streets (preferably in a carriage) when returning from a social engagement. The odd lamplight set along the thin, winding streets had the habit of always catching on anything valuable. Those stationed in the alleyways had a habit of noticing.

Despite this common, and correct, sentiment, a gentleman strolled along. He did not seemed at all bothered, cane clicking along in an uneven rhythm alongside him. He did not move fast due to the red heels he wore, and did not seem at all concerned for the safety of his many jewels and fine garments. It was a common habit of the man, to walk along this street, as it was the quickest way out to his manor, and prevented him having to speak to any of the socialites he just charmed.

It was along this road the Duke slowed and spied into a small apartment. The house, or hovel, was leaning against a tavern. Leaning in quite a literally sense. It was a haphazard building, done by no one of skill and he doubted very much the wind that now blew had any difficulty infiltrating. The tavern had a smell emanating from it that would make many hurry along, and he did indeed hold a handkerchief delicately to his nostrils. This was not, however, what made him stop, cane clicking with finality. A horse, or what could be called that, nickered by it. A wicker candle was set on the windowsill.

What he paused for was the face in the window. Lit by candlelight, eyes downcast as they pinned their hair up carefully. Tears broke through the grime cast on lovely, flushed cheeks.

“Well,” Despite having a soft voice, the street was quiet, and they still looked up. Seeing as their bedroom where they now readied for bed was so close to the front door, they looked directly out of it and toward him. “I believe some poets could write quite a bit about that picture.”

They sniffled. “Which, sir?”

He shrugged daintily. “You cry in quite a pleasing manner. Practised, is it?”

They pressed a dirty handkerchief to their eyes and looked away. “No.”

“No? How talented then.” He smiled faintly and stepped forward. For the state of the house, it was remarkably tidy and the sparse items well cared for and carefully mended. “Might I be let in on the reason?”