Marx and Cherie sit crammed together in a horse-drawn carriage, surrounded by a stack of crates and barrels filled with assorted goods. The carriage rattle and creak as it trundles along the dusty road toward Paris.
Cherie leans back against a crate, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, while Marx sits beside him, his arm crossed and a sullen look on his face.
Cherie couldn't help and chuckle at the sight of sulking Marx. "It is the only way to get us to Paris without having to walk the whole way."
Marx shot him a sideway glance, his expression a mix of annoyance and resignation. "You trade the silver dagger for a ride, a silver dagger! Do you know how important it is?"
Cherie shrugged and grinning. "It was a good trade, and I promise I'll get you a new one. Maybe even better than the last. I love a good bargain."
Marx sighed, leaning back and resting his head against the wooden wall of the carriage. "It is the only thing that can protect us from vampires."
Cherie leaned closer to Marx with a grin, "I'll protect you, don't worry about it."
"You even had to depend on that dagger to ensure their death," Marx took a deep breath and suddenly paused. He thought back to when they were still at the mansion, when Cherie said there is another vampire.
"Wait, how did you finish the other vampire in that mansion last night?"
Cherie simply lifted the edge of his lips, "I found a silver steak knife on the way there."
Marx is stupid to worry about this fool. "Never mind, don't talk to me anymore."
The two men fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound the clatter of the carriage wheels and the occasional snort from the horse. The slow, steady pace of the journey lull them into a drowsy state, and before long, both men had drifted off to sleep, their heads resting against each other.
The sun is high in the sky when the carriage finally rolls into Paris, the street bustling with activity. The driver pulls the carriage to a stop near the train station and calls out to wake them. Cherie stirred first, rubbing his eye and stretching his arms.
Cherie turns to Marx, he leans closer to look at Marx's sleeping face. Mark's brown hair, usually so meticulously groomed, fell in gentle waves across the forehead, softening the regal angles of his face. His eyebrows were now smooth and rested while his lips slightly parted.
When Cherie is about to touch Marx's peaceful sleeping face, Marx moves slightly, startling Cherie. Cherie has no choice but to gently nudge Marx, while pretending to wake him up.
"We're here, Marx"
Marx blinks awake, momentarily disoriented before he realizes where he is. He sat up straight, straightening his coat.
"Finally," he mutters, while climbing out of the carriage with Cherie.
After thanking the driver, Marx and Cherie make their way to the train station. The station is bustling with people coming and going, the sound of steam engines and whistling filling the air. Marx quickly heads to the lost and found office, his heart pounding with anticipation.
"Excuse me," he said to the station attendant. "I left my suitcase on a train two days ago, has it been turned in?"
"First class is it?" the attendant asked.
Marx nodded, "Yes, it is."
The attendant nodded and went to check the back room. A moment later, he returned with a familiar-looking suitcase in his hand. "Is this it?"
Marx's face lit up with relief, "Yes, that's it. Thank you."
With his suitcase in hand, Marx turned to Cherie, a smile on his face. "Now we don't have to worry about a place to stay, and I can also change my clothes."
Marx looks like he just found a treasure and happily shows it off to Cherie. Seeing it Cherie can't help but chuckle. "That a relief, Marx"
"Wait," Marx suddenly stopped. "Where is your suitcase?" He asked Cherie.
"My suitcase?" Cherie wondered in surprise. "I didn't bring any." he said nonchalantly.
Marx looked puzzled. "You didn't bring anything while you're going out of town?"
Cherie grin, clapping Marx on the shoulder. "Well, actually I wasn't planning on going out this far away previously. It's just my hunch that tells me to ride on the train, and I end up meeting you, and happen to have an amazing adventure during the stroll."
Marx stared at him with an unbelievable look on his face. "You really are something. If we are not in the same team, I'll probably ditch you from the beginning."
"After I let you sleep in the room and feed you?" Cherie guff at Marx.
"About that, thank you for your hospitality." Marx ignores Cherie's protest and walks away.
After checking in at a nearby inn and taking a shower, they walk through the streets of Paris. As Cherie catches sight of a boutique, its window is filled with luxurious fabric and elegant attire. He tugged on Marx's sleeve, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Marx, I have to get new clothes. I didn't bring anything to change."
Marx hesitated, a look of annoyance crossing his face. But after looking closely, Cherie's clothes were really dirty and shabby.
Cherie's expression turns pleading, his eyes widening as he gives Marx his best puppy-look.
Marx sighed, knowing he couldn't resist for long. "Fine. Make it quick."
Inside the boutique, the owner's eyes lit up at the sight of Cherie. "My, my! You have such a striking appearance, young man. We have just the thing for you." Before Marx could protest, the owner whisked Cherie away, pulling out a variety of suits, shirts and pants for him to try on.
Marx found a chair and sat down, his arm crossed as he watched Cherie disappear into the changing room. A few minutes later, Cherie emerges, wearing a sleek, black suit that accentuates his figure. He strutted toward Marx, striking a pose as if he were on a runway.
"What do you think, Marx?" Cherie asks, twirling around.
Marx rolled his eyes. "Look exaggerating."
But the boutique owner isn't finished. She insists that Cherie try on several more outfits, each more extravagant than the last. The other customers in the boutique begin to gather, watching with interest as Cherie models each new set of clothes.
Cherie, enjoying the attention, played it up, walking with exaggerated confidence and showing off each outfit with a flourish. Marx, however, was feeling ashamed by those attention, sitting gloomy while covering his face with his hand.
After a while, when Marx finally lost his patience, he stood up, grabbed a pair of pants and a silk white shirt, and thrust them into Cherie's arm.
"Here, wear these. We are leaving." Marx said, his tone firm.
Cherie quickly changed, grinning as he followed Marx out of the boutique. As they walked, Cherie spotted a colorful sign advertising an amusement park nearby. Without warning, he grabs Marx's arm and pulls him in the direction of the park.
"Let's have some fun, Marx," Cherie said, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Wait. We are not here to play." Marx is struggling.
Marx tried to protest but Cherie was already leading him toward the entrance. Inside the park, they were greeted by the sound of laughter and the smell of cotton candy and popcorn. The two men walk through the bustling crowd, taking in the sight and sound.
Cherie drags Marx to the roller coaster, where they buckle in and wait for the ride to start. As the coaster climbed higher and higher, Marx felt a flutter of nervousness in the stomach. When the coaster plunges down, Cherie laughs with delight, while Marx grip the bar tightly, his expression stoic.
After the ride, they wander through the park, eating candy and playing games. Cherie ran around like a child, his face lighting up with joy at every new attraction. Marx followed him, his face expressionless, but deep down, he is enjoying himself more than he cares to admit.
Cherie and Marx sit on a bench, watching the crowd of the amusement park, Cherie turns to Marx, a satisfied smile on his face.
"Thank you for coming with me, Marx. I know it's not exactly what we planned, but I had a great time."
Marx looked at the cotton candy on his hand, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, I guess it wasn't so bad."
As Cherie watches on, a mischievous smile plays on his lips. "Do you like sweets, Marx?"
Marx suddenly sat up straight, with a blush on his face, "It's.. it's none of your business."