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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Taokanf" data-source="post: 3025974" data-attributes="member: 43870">A sharp rap on her door woke Camille from a dead sleep. For a fevered moment she believed it to be the American policeman come to arrest her for eating illegal duck. Shaking the vestiges of sleep away, Camille stumbled over to the door and pressed her left eye up to the small viewing hole. The distorted face of one of the men from the party peered up at her. A second tap near her ear startled her. The gentleman's voice, muffled through it was by an inch or so of plywood, was audible through the door. ''Miss Bardier escuse me, my name is George Barrow and I'm here to talk to you about your integration to the Starkweather—Moore Expedition, miss you there?"Well, that certainly changes things. "Just a moment, Monsieur!" Reaching up slightly, Camille unlatched the chain lock and swung the door open. "Good morning, Monsieur."The man repeated the greeting and offered to talk things over in the hotel restaraunt. "Of course. Let me get my wallet."The man made a weak protest, but by that time Camille had leaned to her left and latched onto her battered flight bag from the doorside table. "Shall we go?"The restaraunt was very quiet, and had few patrons. The waiters and busboys that were visible were stifling yawns and drinking fragrant coffees. The two were shown to a corner booth and seated. Camille ordered a light tea, shaking her head in negation when the waiter asked if she wanted anything else. As the waiter scurried off with their drink orders, Camille eyed the man. In the light, he appeared tired. But who wouldn't, at this ungodly hour? Mornings should be taken out back and shot, she thought grumpily.Setting her tea aside, Camille said, "Monsieur Barrow, isn't it? I recall you from the dinner. You were very gallant.""Now Monsieur," the pilot added more stiffly, "I am not a fool. You did not knock on my door from the goodness of your heart, or, even more unlikely, that of Monsieur Starkweather. If we are to talk about my integration, either Mr. Moore is in charge of this conversation or Monsieur Starkweather is no longer quite so keen on protecting my virtue from you insatiable adventuring types. Am I on the right track, Monsieur?" At that point the waiter returns with their drinks. Camille smiles at the young man as she accepts her tea. "Merci. So," she adds as the waiter retreats, "for the sake of my curiosity, which of those is it, if not both?"</blockquote>

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