A Whole New World (A Queen Fanfiction)

Chapter Two

Dominique Beyrand quietly emerged from the hotel elevator, going into the lobby and looking around.

The young, black-haired woman was the personal assistant of Richard Branson, and was carrying the simple order of finding dinner while they were in temporarily staying in this small section of London, as Richard was to meet professionally with a few bands.

"Simple" or so she wanted to remind herself. Truly, she had never been to the town before, and did not at all know her way around. And it was also up to her to walk, because the chauffer had fallen ill due to the unfamiliar air quality of main London. Quickly, she picked up a small map of the town from the hotel lobby's essential items, and moved on, saying hello to the worker before she left.

She'd been to London - and many other places - before, but never here.

Stepping out into the cool of sundown, she stood on the streetcorner, scanning the map. It looked like the market two blocks from the hotel would be her best bet.

She started walking, trying to never stop or look around, not knowing nor trusting anyone or anything around her.

By the time she was one block away from the market, it was not quite sunset, but definitely getting closer, and there was a definite chill in the air. Dominique was glad she had thought to bring a jacket before venturing out.

She stopped for a moment, and looked at the map again, her eyes darting back and forth between the paper and the street.

I'm close, she tried to remind herself, to find some form of comfort in the mostly unknown area.

Thankfully, it was not long at all before she finally arrived at the market, but the relief was soon replaced with another anxiety - how on Earth would she navigate this place?

Down the wide street that was so packed that it felt like she was slipping down a narrow alleyway, there seemed to be hundreds of street vendors and a large amount of brick and mortar shops, all selling who knows what.

There were also more people in the one street than Dominique ever saw on the entire walk there, as well as children running around with no one watching them. There was a large amount of talking and even shouting, all so overlapped and unintelligible that it was disorienting to just listen to.

Yet still, she tried to make her way, quietly as possible, down the street, looking around for some sort of grocery, or even a quick restaurant, if it meant she could leave this place as soon as possible. She was sure that the people she was staying with would eat anything.

Even as various people shouted out to her, asking her to buy something or try their product, offering to cut her hair for a quarter or give her a variety of skirts, she persisted on, never giving anyone any attention.

Eventually, she found a small, decently stocked little grocery, and stepped inside promptly, relieved at the sensation of a cool, non-crowded space.

The cashier said hello, to which Dominique smiled.

She gathered and purchased the ingredients needed for cheese and chicken quesadillas, figuring that she could probably prepare it all in the little oven in the hotel room. She took her paper bag from the counter, held it firmly in hand, and left again, entering again into the market street.

She felt the doors close behind her with a little push of air as she neared the edge of the sidewalk, and began to place her bets for what would be the best way to navigate the crowd from this point. She nearly had something figured out - there was a small but clear path between two vendors - when suddenly, a small child ran past her legs, nearly knocking her over. Following the child was a weathered old man, shouting "That is mine!"