Chocolat Garden, Paris, 18:45
As you (whichever one of you is first) head inside a sweet-faced woman bumps into you and then steps back with a brief apology before brushing past you onto the platform. The souveneir shop has nothing exciting in it - at least nothing exciting for locals. There's the usual sort of bric-a-brac ranging from miniature Eiffel Towers to key rings to postcards (oh, so many postcards) to clothing made from Parisian shops to travel guides to pamphlets on various important sights to little toys to Parisian art. The store owner is a rather large woman with beady eyes who seems to have all the time in the world for the American couple who have entered her store."Quite right, quite right," said the American man. "I don't see why we need to get involved in their squabbles."
"Of course not," said the store owner. "A war would be ruinous for us all and for what?"
"Well, I can't say there's not wealth in it," said the American man.
The attractive American woman standing beside him laughs softly as she picks up a silver-plated art nouveau statuette of a woman in a 1920s flapper gown leaning back against a fireplace. "This is lovely. How much?"
In the corner of the store stands two Arabic men. One an older, distinguished gentleman in his middle fifties and the other, who looks to be his highly attractive son, in his mid twenties. Both of them look on toward the two Americans with barely disguised annoyance on their faces. The store owner who nods in agreement pays no attention to either of them.