Pylea sounded like Hell -- well, not the one from the Holy Bible, but a different sort of hell. Of course, if Lorne were anything like the creatures Fred described, it would be natural to call it such a place. Where was God in that? He frowned, then frowned deeper when he realized she'd been there. "I'm very glad you're not there anymore," he said fervently. "You must have been terrified."
Clearly, their conversation was affecting his companion. He watched her push her croissant around on her plate. She needed a distraction, and she just gave him a way to do it.
"I'm not," he confessed. "Two... three weeks ago, it was the turn of the century - 1900, that is, and I was in Paris." Christian's voice took on the tone and timbre of a man used to telling stories, a man who knew how to imbue the words he spoke with the excitement of the moment he described. "I had left my father's house and traveled all the way from London to be a part of the Bohemian Revolution. We professed the ideals of freedom, beauty, truth and love. Above all things, love..."
He paused, then smiled at his hands. "I had found work at the Moulin Rouge, a nightclub and bordello in a village just outside of Paris. We put on the most wonderful play, there. I think you would have loved it; it was full of lights and music, and high romance and danger, adventure... It was Spectacular, Spectacular!, and we made it live up to its name."
He nodded firmly, fought the surprisingly strong wave of sorrow and thought he'd kept it from his face, then offered her a smile. "I think you would have loved it very much."