As tradesmen of various sorts trickled into the big room of Le Pomme d'Eve after their days of work finished, someone was already inside and mopping the last bits of soup from a bowl using a crust of bread. Two other empty bowls sat stacked on the table nearby, next to a tankard of cheap ale and a wooden plate with a few more pieces of bread. A short, busty woman sat with a tight lipped smile as Pierre Gringoire lay his head on her chest, chattering on about... Well, she didn't really know, nor did she particularly care.

"--couldn't convince the monks to share the secrets of their arts, you know, but it would have taken a true scholar to understand, anyway. [i]Vinum theologium[/i] is quite a hallowed thing, needed for consecrations as well as communion, so it must of course be done properly. Few but monks would have time to learn all the details of viticultural science. Not a science I have studied in-depth, mind you, as I do prefer literature and philosophical history to all other studies, but I did quite enjoy my ventures into the subject of alchemy. The greatest of sciences, but also most confounding. Ah, but if I only advanced enough to turn lead into gold, I could have evenings like this one five times a week, and the priests would still allow me into church for the tithes and charities I could afford to give, and the city officials would see me as more than a vagabond and pay me for my work, as I deserve to be so! Alas, but it is the life of a true artist to never be appreciated in his own time!"

Pierre took a pause to take a large bite from his soggy, soup-flavored crust. It would never do for a man of mind to speak with his mouth full, and besides, he wanted to enjoy this meal to its fullest. He had slept in the gutters often enough to know his lot in life would not be changed by this short but wonderful windfall. The strumpet made no effort to hide her relief at the temporary silence. But temporary it was, as soon enough Pierre had finished the bread and washed it down with his ale.

"Yes, a poor beleaguered philosopher I may be, but as a philosopher, I must always strive to find meaning in all things and bring clarity where none can see it..."

Another patron shook his head pityingly at the strumpet and clapped her on the shoulder. "How'd yeh end up ina position, lettin' this winded sap sing like a frog in yer ear?" he asked in a thick accent, leftover from a childhood spent in the north.

She sighed. "He brought money, today..."

The patron looked at Pierre in surprise, who continued rambling, unaware that no one was listening to his speech. "Where'd he get money 'nough for you?"

She shrugged. "Not my job to ask."

He shook his head and wished her luck, before wandering to a table rather far away and ordering his own drink.