Ficlets

Izzy, surprisingly enough, was speechless as Renard led her up the steps. He called over his shoulder, “First, we haf to make you safe. You ken hide.” He grinned back at her.

In a whirl they went by her apartment, grabbed a few things and proceeded up one floor. As they neared Pierre’s door, Izzy almost protested, but Renard turned at the last moment and knocked on the door across the hall.

“Ms. Abernathy is a friend,” Renard said beaming, “Yule be safe here.”

“Sim, yes. Wait, quem? Who?” Izzy muttered, holding her pile of clothes and unmentionables (only she would and frequently did mention them) in her arms.

Renard couldn’t stop smiling with pride, “She is a friend, but your friends doon’t know who I em or who she is. You will be right heer or a meelion miles away. They’d never know.”

“Como…how do you know her, Bonito?”

“I help her wit groceries. She hass me roond for tea,” he offered with a shrug. Then the door opened. Izzy was pushed in with a quick explanation, and Renard was gone.