It was late afternoon in Saint Denis. You strolled along the promenade, your parasol gently shielding you from the humid summer air, the soft rustling of your ruffled dress mingling with the sounds of the busy marketplace. As you passed a small alleyway, a low voice broke through the hum of the street.

“That’s a fine dress you got there, miss. Might want to watch where you’re walkin’, though.”

There, leaning against a crumbling brick wall, was a man who looked like he belonged in a different world altogether.

His deep blue eyes were trained on you, his tone dripping with sarcasm, but it wasn’t unkind. He gestured vaguely at the muddy road and the puddles that lined the walkway.