[ The interior is quaint, the walls littered with paintings of different parts of Paris— amateur, but with sufficient heart. Wooden furniture is supported by brass and copper, legs carved like tendrils and some embossed with complicated designs. A curious mixture of organic and inorganic.

Gus pulls up a chair for Iona, and then settles into the seat opposite her. ]

I come here often enough, so ignore everyone if they start talking to me.

[ His voice drops into a whisper. ] Especially ignore the ones that call me "Auguste", and if I tell you we should get going, we should get going. Ok?