A New Reason to Hate Paris

"Hello, Jack," Robert said. "He's conscious, but he's understandably a bit disoriented, and he's exhausted. He may try to get up once he's slept. I was telling Jess I don't have an issue with that, so long as he's not falling and breaking more things. She can give you more of the specifics. Be a bit watchful, would you, Jack? You know how driven he can be to try to repair a mission if he thinks its gone wrong. I don't want him meddling with this business now that we've picked it up for him."

In Paris, Michael's portkey landed them in an alley alongside a cafe. He had picked this spot deliberately rather than going straight to the organization. He didn't trust that it was a safe place to go.

"The more they think we're still panicking about Brian, the better," Michael said. "We're far enough away that we won't be spotted, I don't think. The back entrance to the museum is a couple blocks away, so I think we could get there and back easier from here than any other portkey I have. We'll have to be very careful about the muggle security systems. They use all sorts of electronics now, and that can make things more difficult. I can scramble them, but we can only scramble them for a moment or it will set off the alarms. Hopefully, we can get in while the security system is momentarily confused."

Jack glanced at Brain and nodded looking back to Robert as he continued to talk. “ yeah, I know just how stubborn his.” He said with a smirk as he stood with Jess looking down at Brian.

Brant steadied himself from the porting and looked to Michael as he spoke to him. “Good choice and good idea” He said and glanced around to make double sure they hadn't been seen. “So we go together or separately?” He asked moving his bag to rest against his hip the small bottles hardly making a single sound with in it. “ I'll follow your lead, cat man” he said with a smirk as he waited for Michael to make the first move.

"Together is fine, at least until I see otherwise," Michael said. "We have a short walk yet, at any rate." He looked around and found a tourist brochure laying on the ground, and he picked it up. It had a little map of the neighborhood on the back, so he handed it to Brant. "Can you make like a tourist and look lost? I can pass off looking lost, I think, so let's see how we do and try to wander in the right direction."

He headed out of the alley, looking about to get his bearings and then started casually down the street looking around as if it was the first time he'd been there. Partway down the street, someone bumped into Michael, and Michael stopped and turned to apologize, seeing an old friend was the one who had bumped into him.

"You old dog!" his friend exclaimed. "Decided to take a holiday finally, did you?"

"I did," Michael said. "Good to see you."

"You and your friend going to the theater while you're here?"

"Perhaps. Is it good?"

"Horrid, but I have a pair of tickets I'm dying to get rid of. You'd be doing me a favor," he handed Michael a two tickets. "The second showing is better. Make sure the usher gets you to the right seats, though. These were good seats even if they were cheap."

"I'll keep it in mind," Michael smiled, looking over the ticket and then pocketing them in his jacket.

"Come 'round after the performance for a pint!"

"We might at that. Thank you," Michael smiled. The two friends shook hands, and Michael's friend walked away. Michael looked at Brant. "We know the way in," Michael said quietly. "He's an old mate of mine, and he likes very expensive knickknacks. These 'tickets' will show us exactly how to get in. Second performance means the secondary gate. He means it to be the emergency entrance. The rest of the information is in the coaded seat information on the tickets. If we follow it exactly, we should do well. I presume my ticket gets us in, and yours gets us out--or some such thing. We'll know more when we get there." He started to walk again towards the museum.

Brant followed Michael looking every so often at the map he held in his hands of the local area, on hearing a second vice he looked up but left the talking to Michael as he seemed to know what and who this man was all about. When he spoke of the performances Brant raised an eyebrow noting how the man spoke to Michael about it and which gate to use.

Once the man said his good byes he looked back to Michael who explained what it had all meant and he nodded taking in what Michael was teaching him with a smile. “ Then we should wait till dark then, but how do we decode the information, is it like a micro dot where you can use a magnifying glass and see it that way?” He asked as they continued to walk. He was now really interested in knowing, finding Michaels secret life as a cat burglar now a bit more glamorous and work than he'd expected. This just added to the respect that grew for the older man that now walked slightly ahead of him.

"No, no, no. Nothing like that. Think old school. Sometimes the old ways are still the best. It'll be directions once we get in. Something like a couple office numbers--something like that. He has no idea what exactly I'd be looking for, but he knows the sort of work I do now, so he likely spotted us a short while back and enchanted the tickets to give us information. Think of him like an informant. Remember most of my work now is for the Ministry, so what I'm getting is usually important documents and the like, not so much loot and booty anymore. Happen to bring any polyjuice with you, by chance? If you did, we might be able to do this in daylight."

He looked around, thinking quickly, and spotted a crowded little neighborhood bar. A perfect place to get a couple of hairs from, he figured. If Brant had the potion, Michael had an idea of exactly how to get the hairs to provide enough of a disguise to get in without being noticed.

Brant mouth a silent OH as Michael spoke of thinking old school, “ so put them together might be the combination for a lock or something like that.” he asked knowing it was probably wrong but it was a simple thought. When he asked about Polyjuice potion Brant opened the small bag and nodded showing two small bottles between his fingers yet hid by the flap of the bag from passers by.

“There are two guard close by, maybe if I play the dumb lost tourist we could use them?” He said “ or would that be too obvious?” he let the two bottles slip back into his bag and closed it again looking behind Michael at the guard stood by one of the doors “We'd not be stopped being them.”

"That'll do," Michael said. Michael made his way down the street, knowing Brant was going to pretend to be a tourist, so Michael made his way, looking to merely be looking at the scenery, pretending to be looking the other way, and he brushed up against one of the guards, pickpocketting her work badge and managing a few long brunette hairs in the process. But he also go the aroma of jasmine. Bloody hell. The one he'd chosen was a woman.

He closed his eyes to avoid anyone seeing him rolling his eyes in frustration. It wasn't that the polyjuice wouldn't work. It would. He would just be a young 20-something year old brunette. He'd had to disguise as a woman once or twice before, and he hadn't liked it either time.

For a man of his talents, it was wasn't hard for Michael to get the hairs into the vial of potion, but he knew better than to drink it here. They would have to slip out of the way to make the transition and to try to transfigure their clothing into duplicates of the guards uniforms.

Brant walked over to a male guard and started chatting to him about where he was and how he could find some obscure location. At finishing the conversation he patted the man on his shoulder snagging several hairs as he pulled his hand back making out his watch had snagged his hair. The man's cologne left a pungent smell around him and Brant knew he was not going to like being him as this man was well over weight.

Seeing Michael managing with the second guard he thanked the man and moved to a notice board to meet back up with Michael. “ wanna swap?” he asked showing the brown hairs held tight in his hand from the guard. “ he reeked of cologne, bad cologne.” Brant said screwing up his nose.

"Hell no," Michael said. "Mine smells better than yours. Besides, I haven't been 20-thereabouts for some time. Aside from the estrogen, this might be fun. Let's go over to that hedge out of the way."

He waved back at the guards, as if to thank them for being kind when they'd been disturbed and then walked out of the way and slipped behind the hedge. He put the hairs in the vial and drank it.

Much as he hated the transfiguration that polyjuice created, he rather liked the results. There was nothing foul, all things considered, in the essence this woman. He could have done worse. She smelled of jasmine, and sea spray, and sweetgrass. There were certainly worse smells, and Brant seemed to have gotten some of them, at least from where Michael stood.

However, his clothes were now falling off him. What size was she, anyway? Lord. He had to transfigure the clothes quickly and then get them to fit as well as he could. He picked up the work badge and put it on and picked up the pack.

"Do not say a word of this to anyone, or I might have to delete your lips," Michael told Brant, dreading what Robert would do with any knowledge he was a woman.

Brant sighed and rolled his eyes pulling a face at becoming that fat sweaty pungent guard. Following Michael he did the same finding his clothes become tight and in some places the seems stretch to their limits. Looking over at Michael he smirked “Hey, I won't say one word if you don't, have to say doesn't look that bad on you.” he said with a smirk as he transfigured his clothes to the guards clothes. “Gugh, I feel all sweaty and...pleth fat.” he said making his belly wobble as he stood up once he'd checked the guards were no where in sight. “ makes me appreciate fine clothes all the workouts I do.”

Looking around he spotted the two doors “There, two doors.” He said motioning with his head then looked down at his body “ I'm so glad this potion wears , how does he do any work like this, “ he said wiping off sweat that had formed just from doing very little.