It's nice to see them so happy, poor darlings
He didn't need to ask her twice. She scampered up the side of the bakery, heedless of the baker's gasps and insistence that she take care (and she did take care - she managed the climb very gracefully and modestly for one in a skirt). Sitting herself beside him, she leaned against him comfortably, gazing off into the horizon with a bit of a dreamy smile. The river Seine wound its way through the city before them. It was an old, familiar sight, even if the river always made her think of newness.
"I dreamt about following it, as a child," she said, indicating the river with a wave of her hand. "I used to imagine all the places it would rush off to, and that I would see along with it. I dreamt about the river carrying me away...far away, out to sea. I dreamt of running away so fast that nothing could catch up to me."
She sighed, then, but it wasn't an unhappy sigh, or even a melancholy one. She could remember the way it had been, now that it was no longer the same.
"And maybe I will follow the river, one day. But not for those reasons."
There had been times when, as a child, she might not have come back. But Paris was home - it truly was. Everyone she knew and loved was here. Her family was here.