Bastien had been in such a good mood as he contemplated the day ahead, he'd taken pity on the editor and helped him to the room between the one Vincent was occupying and the one Terri was in. He'd even seen the man into the bathroom, waited patiently outside while he saw to his needs, then helped him out and onto the bed. He'd handed Chris the remote control to the television on the console against the wall opposite the bed, and promised he'd have someone deliver him a meal. Then Bastien fetched the gym bag full of clothes he'd gotten the night before and set it on the bed beside him, where it was within easy reach if the editor needed it.
Having done all that he could for Chris at the moment—or all he was willing to do—he'd gone out to the living room and found Terri dressed and ready to go. All other thoughts had been wiped from his mind at the sight of her happy excited face; and when she'd asked if they were taking a real New York cab and if they were, if she could flag it down like she'd seen done on TV, Bastien had said yes. Her excitement and pleasure as they had headed out and ridden downtown in the taxi she flagged had carried him along right up until they'd stepped out of the cab and he'd become aware of the sun beating cheerfully down on him. It was then Bastien had realized he'd forgotten the blood. He could not believe that he had been so remiss. He was an idiot! And that idiocy was about to see him ruin the day. He could not continue to walk around in this heat with the sun killing him.
Perhaps it would help if he bought a big floppy hat and a long-sleeved shirt from one of the booths or something. Bastien grimaced. He might as well buy a clown nose and floppy shoes, too. This day wasn't going at all as he'd hoped.
"Bastien?" Terri was suddenly at his side, concern on her face. "You look a bit… ill. Are you feeling all right?"
"Yes, I—It's just the heat and sun," he said finally. He wasn't surprised he looked sick. They had been outside for two hours, and he was really starting to feel it.
"I think I could use a break," he admitted, and sighed inwardly at the concern on her face. Now she'd think he was some pitifully weak guy who couldn't handle a little walking.
"If you like." She frowned. "You really aren't feeling well, are you?"
"No, I just—" He sighed. "I forgot about the sun. I have a bit of an allergy to it."
"Oh!" She looked relieved. "Well, why didn't you just say so?"
"I forgot," Bastien said. Then he realized how stupid that sounded. He'd hardly forget he was allergic to the sun. Then inspiration struck, and he added, "It's not really a regular thing for me. I'm just on some medication that makes me photosensitive."
"Oh." Something flickered in Terri's expression before her gaze slid over him with concern. "My husband was on medication that did that to him."
"It's nothing serious," Bastien assured her. "But the medication does make me react to sunlight, and I didn't think of that until I got out here and—What are you doing?" he interrupted himself to ask as she pulled him from the shade and started to drag him along the street.
"We're getting you out of the sun. You should have said you had an allergy. I'd have understood." Pausing on the corner, she glanced at the through traffic, spotted an approaching taxi, and stepped off the curb. Waving one hand like a pro, as if she'd lived in New York all her life, Terri stepped back up onto the curb as the taxi put its blinker on to pull over and slid to a stop in front of them.
"Where to?" the driver asked once they were in.
Terri glanced at Bastien. "I don't know your address."
Bastien hesitated. He really didn't want to bring their outing to an end. He just wanted to move indoors.
"Care to go to Macy's?" he asked. "It's not as cheap as the flea market, but still cheaper than England."
"Sure." She grinned.
"Some people just don't know how to behave," Terri muttered. She watched in disgust as an older female customer shrieked at the hapless cashier who had made the unfortunate mistake of trying to help her. The customer wanted to return a toaster, but didn't have a sales slip or even the box the toaster came in. When the cashier apologetically explained that she couldn't put through the return as it was, that it was company policy, the woman had gone off, and was still doing so. Did she look like a thief? she shrieked. She'd purchased the item in good faith and expected to be treated better than this at Macy's, and so on. Terri was finding it almost painful to watch. The cashier didn't deserve such abuse, and sickened by the scene, Terri turned to see Bastien watching with a frown.
"I wonder where the washrooms are," she murmured, glancing around the busy store.