<strong>Emily Fitzgerald</strong><br/><strong>Location</strong>:Paris, the flat<br/><strong>Tag</strong>: John<br/><hr/>Emily turns her head toward him, flashing a quick grin as they pass through the dappling shadows of trees along the looming edifices of the large stone buildings-- she speaks in conversational French, as she always does outside the apartment and never does inside. "<em>Well see about that in half an hour</em>."  The route takes them past curving streetlamps over broad walks, long blocks of arched entryways supporting the broad shoulders of gray and red stone.  She is utterly silent when running, not looking at the sights or chattering in an out-of-breath pant... it's like if she can go far enough without using her mind, she can leave it somewhere along the trail for a while and forget it ever existed.  Eventually, she'll loop back toward the apartment, their path through the city serpentine and erratic, but methodical enough....When they near a park, Emily will head towards it like a moth to a lightbulb, but-- as undoubtedly, John would notice-- if there's a playground, or a school, within two blocks, she always turns the other direction.<br/><br/><br/>