[centre][img]http://i.imgur.com/WERTtML.png[/img][/centre]
	[sup][color=aa4846][u]HOPING TO FIND HER WAY BACK HOME.    [/u][/color][/sup]
	[sup][color=aa4846][u]9:00AM    [/u][/color][/sup]

[indent]The first priority for Lucia was to find the train station. The train station would serve as both a landmark, should she get lost again, and a place for Lucia to see if she could get some sightseeing done before heading to the meeting place. But first: where was the station?

Lucia narrowed her eyes at the tourist guidebook she had bought from a newspaper stand she had crossed by whilst leaving the British Cafe, trying to make out where she was in relation to the closest station. From what she could tell, she was close to the city center, and around twenty minutes away from Gare du Nord train station if she took a taxi. Lucia didn't trust her French skills enough to try and decode the bus timings a few pages later, so she was stuck with the long walk for an even longer journey back to the airport.

[color=aa4846]'[i]If only the damn phone worked.[/i]'[/color][/indent][centre][img]http://www.dantecreative.com/Images/Divider_Stars.png[/img][/centre]
	[sup][color=aa4846][u]THE TRAIN TO HELL.    [/u][/color][/sup]
	[sup][color=aa4846][u]9:35AM    [/u][/color][/sup]

[indent]According to the patient lady behind the help desk at the train station, Charles de Gaulle airport was nine stops away from the current station, the whole journey taking no more than thirty-five minutes, maybe less, if Lucia took the correct train. Lucia thanked the kind woman profusely for her help. Maybe she [i]was[/i] going to arrive at the meeting spot in time and get her once-in-a-lifetime chance to meet Bonaparte.

And just [i]maybe[/i], she would get her wish.

With that hopeful thought in place, Lucia paid for the ticket she needed to get herself back to the airport. Though she wasn't able to do some sightseeing of the romantic city, Lucia quickly reminded herself that her luck usually never lasted very long, and to just head for the meeting place before something else went horribly wrong.

Lucia took her place beside an elderly looking man reading beside the window. She sat close to the edge of her seat so she wouldn't bother him whilst she made herself comfortable. She kept a tight grip of her luggage, her ticket crumbled in her tightly clenched palm. The man looked at her, giving her a smile and asking her something in French. Lucia blinked in return, unsure how to respond.

The elderly man waited patiently, and Lucia just shook her head, unable to articulate what she wanted to say. She saw him look at her luggage before a flash of understanding crossed his face. The man didn't ask her anything again, instead just smiled at her one more time before returning to his book. The kind smile reminded her of her grandfather, and she sank deeper into her seat and felt a little more comfortable.[/indent][centre][img]http://www.dantecreative.com/Images/Divider_Stars.png[/img][/centre]
	[sup][color=aa4846][u]AT THE MEETING SPOT.    [/u][/color][/sup]
	[sup][color=aa4846][u]10:26AM    [/u][/color][/sup]

[indent]Lucia was the first to arrive at the meeting spot. Unsurprisingly, seeing as she was already there [i]hours[/i] before the escort was supposed to arrive. She didn't mind the wait, in fact, she was glad to know she wasn't going to be late meeting the great Bonaparte. How horrible would that be? 

She took a seat on the bench outside a hotel, just... waiting.[/indent]