Outside the Cupboard, the Parisian night felt a little quieter than it should have. A brief passing rain was busy making itself known, washing the eventful night away with the promise of a cleaner tomorrow. The soothing rush of water against pavement lightened the rather unhappy mood just a little, but the general air of guilt and concern was still hanging low over everyone's heads.
With everything that had happened, Atticus sincerely hoped that Frances would be okay. With any luck, things would ease up a little and the whole group could go back and check on them when it was safe. But until then, the image of Frances' big, tear-stained eyes would haunt Atticus with mixed emotions of loss and shame.
"Alright, where do we go now?" Bentley asked, looking out at the soaking wet streets.
"Well if you want," Xander suggested, "I could take you two back to Hell—"
"Not until it freezes over," Said Lucy.