A dangerous sorcerer named Felix Faust has come to Sunnydale, intent on raising an ancient demon to subjugate all of humankind. To succeed, he must perform a powerful curse to displace his enemies, transporting them from one time and place and exch...
Buffy followed Batman through the thick oak doors into the noisy din of La Maison de Touraine.
The tavern's raucous crowd stopped almost immediately as they entered. They uttered a collective gasp at Batman, who must have looked even more like a winged monster to them than he did to people in the twentieth century. Buffy stepped forward, past his billowing batwinged cape. She struck her fists on her hips. "Okay, everybody, listen up! We're looking for Red Riding Hood."
Everyone blinked at her, then exchanged confused glances.
Batman bent to whisper at her ear. "None of them know who that is."
"Oh," Buffy said.
One man spoke cautiously, remaining in his distant chair. "Pardon me, Mademoiselle. Is that – creature – traveling with you? And did you mean to enter this place?"
"Of course I meant to," Buffy defended. "And this – uh, creature is my friend."
The crowd eyed her dubiously.
"Did he do that to you, Mademoiselle?" asked another man.
She blinked. "Do what?"
"Steal your clothes," the man said. "What has he done with your dress?"
Buffy looked down at herself and her snug tan pants. "Oh. Right. My dress." She smiled brightly. "No, it's at the cleaners."
They all stared at her in silence.
Batman bent forward. "Again, no one –."
"Right, they don't have dry cleaners. Got it," Buffy said.
Three men approached carefully, maintaining a few steps of distance from Batman's imposing figure. "What kind of cloak are you wearing?" one of them asked Buffy. "Did this beast tear it?"
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Buffy examined her brown leather jacket. "Oh. Uh – cloak. Yeah, this is the newest fashion in cloaks. A little shorter. We call it a mini-cloak. Very chic. It's all the rage in Paris."
Another man's eyebrows shot up, amazed. "You've come all the way from Paris?"
"What's it like?" asked another, as more tavern guests gathered the courage to join the crowd surrounding the newcomers.
"Oh, it's great," Buffy said. "I mean, you know. Paris. The city of love. Lots of nice outdoor restaurants. And we can see the Eiffel Tower out our window every morning."
The man before her squinted, confused. "You can see the what?"
Buffy stared back at him, offering a friendly, vacant smile. "Really need to brush up on my history," she muttered to herself. "Anyway, I meant to say – we're looking for the Red Rider. Anybody seen her?"
The men looked nervous. A couple of them stepped back, while others shook their heads.
"We haven't seen Helena," one man said quickly. "We try to stay out of her way."
