Louis and Bella were having talks with the Queen’s cafe owner.

The star-studded cafe buzzed with a low, melodic hum—the clinking of spoons against china, the murmur of conversations in English, French and many other languages, and the soft jazz drifting from a hidden speaker.

Rain pattered lightly against the window, blurring the city lights into impressionistic streaks of color.

Benyamin, his dark hair slightly damp from the drizzle, seemingly was captivated not by the view, but by the woman sitting across from him as she told him funny stories from her past.

“I’m telling you the truth,” Rebecca said. “The pigeon Elizabeth bought ate the whole croissant right off the table. I’ve never seen anything like it. Elizabeth thought the maid ate the croissant when she wasn’t looking. It led to an argument, until Elizabeth saw the pigeon go for another food item.

“After that day, she let the bird go, but that bird would return to Elizabeth’s window for food. She didn’t feed that bird at all,