“Where is he?! Where is that no good Jackal? He thinks he’s funny huh? Perhaps I’ll give him something to laugh about?!” -Just about all the tenants at some point or another.

Bertrand resides on the Third Floor, Room C6.

The Vignettes

Bertrand Faure made his way home one day when he suddenly heard quick foot falls around the corner, followed by a sudden tumble and fall.

"Ahh!"

Quickly turning around the corner he saw Claudia Berkshire limp to her feet, speaking under her breath.

"I have to see Yves before his big fight!"

Bertrand stood back watching Claudia limp on her foot, continuing to push forward, and wincing in pain.

"You're not going to make it that far on your busted tire there..."

He remarked as she continued to pace forward in defiance of her pain.

"Watch me...!"

"I'd rather not..." Bertrand responded stepping in front of her, then kneeling down to the ground."

"Hop on Mademoiselle Claudine..."

She hesitated for a moment, then he assured her. "I'm officially done riding for the day; you don't have to worry about me charging you."

"She still seemed apprehensive for the moment."

"Or leaving me a tip, unless the tip is don't take a ride from strangers."

"You're not a stranger, are you?"

"I certainly hope not, imagine not recognizing yourself in the mirror..."

Claudine was audibly silent, not catching Bertrand’s sense of humor.

"All right hold on; I'll get you to the ring before you can say K.O.!"

Bracing onto Claudine's legs Bertrand took off down the street while she held tight onto his neck.

I know that face from somewhere. . .

Bertrand Faure, thought to himself almost certainly. Watching a tall, and resolute looking red headed woman carry a bag full of goods down the sidewalk towards the Apartment. It wasn't until then he noticed.

"Madam Navarre!" Bertrand cried, and felt his feet take flight as he approached her.

She paused and took stock of the man running up to her, and narrowed her eyes, trying to identify him.

Then at once she noticed... "Bertrand is it...? Her lips pierced together in thought, recalling his reputation that was dubious at best.

"Yes!" He smiled with a supreme self assurance. "Bertrand Faure."

Removing his hat, he quickly explained himself without much hesitation. Ah yes Madam Navarre, you see I have a favor to ask and nobody else can do it for me!”

“Ah yes, Monsieur Faure, I’ve heard tell of you. . .”

“You don’t say, I’m sure a lot of people talk about me. when they’re not telling on me.”

She rolled her eyes, what is this favor Bertrand?”

“I need you to take the cab off my hands, I’ll split the faire with you fifty fifty.”

She cocked a brow at him aggressively not in the mood for any kind of ill humor. “Suppose you are not playing games with me, what would I have need of money if my husband works a good job?!”

“Well, money is good Madam, but even more money frees you from things you dislike, and if you dislike nearly everything as much as I do it’s pretty handy!”

Marquerite hesitated for a moment and thought of using a little extra money to get out to eat, instead of having to fuss with going to the market and preparing a meal, and that it would be nice. It was at this thought that she relented. “Fine, I’ll do it, but if you’re putting me on Bertrand, I’ll break your legs!”

“If that’s the case then don’t expect me to come crawling back. . .”

Marquerite glanced down the road at the sight of his empty carriage and asked.

"Why can't you do it?"

“Personal business to attend at the last minute. The Bossman that runs the carriage company won’t let me take the night off.”

“Don’t you think he’ll be watching?”

“Of course, he will!”

“And what do you think he’ll say when he sees a woman riding one of his carriages?”

“He won’t know who you are, but i can guarantee you he’ll give you a raise.”

Before she could say another word.

“I have a solution. . .” Bertrand held up his arm with a smooth suggestion.