The Im.Possible

Chapter 17: Paris

WARNING: There is a minor amount of swearing in this chapter. Just thought I'd warn ya! ;^) happy reading!

We were in Paris.

Paris.

The city of love.

Could this be any more awkward? I know my stuff. I have a (don't mean to brag) impeccable memory. And I know that people associate Paris with love.

And there I am. In Paris. With a man who's in love with me.

To say I was internally squirming would be an understatement.

I looked around, the noise of the traffic and daily chatter filling my senses. To keep my mind off of the guy beside me, I started to read stranger's minds:

Young man, I'd say in his twenties stood before us, his burning eyes looking straight at me. Damn, she's fit.

I shook my head and moved onto the next person, who seemed to be internally singing the lyrics of a French song. It went a little something like this:

J'avoue là c'est pas mal

On me dit qu' je suis un génie

Un conseil ne te frotte pas

J'aime ce gout de vanille

Sur ta peau toute bronzée

An old woman complained about her husband who was stood next to her, screaming in French at a somewhat dangerous driver. The git is so embarrassing. Maybe he won't notice if I cross the street. He turned to her and rambled about the young drivers these days and she slapped on an understanding look. So maybe I won't now. Stupid ass can't stay there for a short while longer? Men! Can't believe it's been forty one years.

I chuckled and shook my head and leaned away, feeling as though I was joining myself into somewhat of a domestic, well that is the domestic in her head. We all get frustrated sometimes I guess. I mean, I've know Sebastian for a short while now and he's irritated me countless times. Do you know he complained the whole way to Paris, from the Amazon, and it's not like I could get away. I hated to admit it but without my Shape shift ability I felt somewhat useless. And I know it's not what makes me me, but I felt certainly drained without it. It's like a cracked eggshell; I was still a whole but I wasn't quite completed, something was missing.

But the thing is it's not as simple as glueing something back together, this is my DNA we're talking about.

This unnerves me a lot, that something so powerful can be restrained by science. Someone like me can have their life ruined by a feeble scientist.

I shook my head to rid of my thoughts but soon enough I was back on Paris and Sebastian again and I just couldn't handle it. There are much more important things to worry about over a guy who's in love with me and a place; like how I may never get my power back.

A guy walking at brisk pace with a phone in hand and an angered expression barged into me, certainly not hurting me, but didn't apologise.

'Watch where you're going ass hole,' I growled lowly, hoping if he was French, he'd still get the message through my irked tone.

'Salope,"('Bitch') He spat as he turned around to face me, holding the phone at arms length from his ear.

Sebastian jerked at the comment and spun around, grabbing the guy by his expensive wear from Italy or perhaps Spain.

'Voulez-vous à Répète ça?' ('Want to repeat that?') Sebastian snarled, his teeth bared and his lips curled in disgust.

'Je l'ai dit, salope.' ('I said, bitch.') The man was not backing down, I understood what they were saying, as my memory allowed me to understand many languages. But I didn't expect Sebastian to know it so well.