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Raphael has gone to fetch some ice cream from the park cafe.
He has left Fondue (Not forever — just for now!) with Marie, who is sat on a bench.
Raphael told him to “Watch over Marie, buddy!”, so that’s what Fondue is doing. Fondue is being a good buddy to Raphael and a good guard to Marie and a good dog, overall.
Even though he is a very good dog, Fondue isn’t meant to sit on benches, so he sits on the grass beside Marie.
He tries to pay attention— to protect Marie like a police dog— but he keeps getting distracted.
The sunshine is warm on his back… but he can’t fall asleep!
Fondue’s eyes fly open. The birds above them are chirping merrily— no sign of any danger.
Fondue sniffs at the freshly-cut grass, which still smells of rodents and cats. (Cats are scary, but Fondue will stay by Marie’s side!)
Fondue lifts his head when he hears Marie let out a sigh.
Resting her elbow on her knees, Marie holds her chin in one hand.
Her mouth is downturned. Her eyes drift shut. Not tearful, but still sad. A deeper word Fondue can’t name.
She’s looked that way before, but Fondue… can’t quite place where.
(Fondue’s memory isn’t the best. He’s not an elephant!)
—Still, he does remember cheering Marie up! Raphael lent Fondue his hat, and Fondue made Marie laugh.
Maybe Fondue can make Marie laugh again, even though he doesn’t have a hat!
“Woeuf!”
Marie blinks at Fondue as he tries to stand up on his hind legs… only to lose his balance and fall onto the grass.
This doesn’t win him a full laugh, but a faint chuckle. “Aww, Fondue…”
Wagging his tail, Fondue leaps to his feet.
His ears perk up as a lady with a stroller roll past their bench. The stroller contains a baby, but Fondue deems they aren’t a threat— stinky diaper aside.
Marie watches the woman and the baby go. Her smile fades.
“Hrrrn?” Fondue paws at Marie’s leg.
Why is Marie so sad? And how can Fondue save her from the sadness?
(He needs to comfort her before Raphael returns! Or Fondue will no longer be a good dog!)
“It’s okay,” Marie murmurs, stroking Fondue’s head. She smiles, but it’s not a happy smile!
Huffing, Fondue nuzzles her hand.
“I’m okay,” she dismisses. “Nothing to worry about—“
“Wo-woeuf!”
“Shhhh!” Marie glances about. “Raphael will hear you and he’ll think—“
“ROEUF!” So, there is something to worry about!
Fondue jumps up on the bench next to Marie. (He has to act like a bad dog in order to be a good dog— like Raphael with Phantom R!)
“Fine! Fine…” Marie sighs— this time with resignation. Once more, her gaze sweeps around, before she faces Fondue.
Clenching her hands above her heart, Marie confesses, “I’m not… I just… don’t fit in… anymore.”
Fondue tilts his head to the side. He’s trying to be helpful and serious and comforting, but Marie’s phrases confuse him.
What does she mean by ‘fit in’? Fit in where?
Here, on the bench? No… there’s enough room for her and Fondue, along with Raphael when he joins them.
In the park? No— they have plenty of space to walk or run or roll around.
Does Marie mean in her new home? Duchess Elisabeth’s manse is huge— huger than Raphael’s apartment— and so is Marie’s bedroom!
Could it be Marie’s clothes? Fondue knows nothing about human fashion, but Marie’s clothes fit her just fine— and Raphael always seems to like her clothes!
Fondue nudges Marie’s arm, reminding her of that. “Woeuf!”
Marie understands him, a little. She rubs the sleeve of her cardigan.
“It doesn’t matter what I wear— whether it’s my old clothes or the new things Maman buys for me… I still feel so… so different from everyone else since... you know.”
Fondue doesn’t know for sure, but he can sense Marie’s wariness and her pain as her eyes dart around.
Oh— the beasts in the metal suits! They were led by a man with a helmet and a blanket around his shoulders… and Graf— that son of a feline!
Fondue growls slightly.
“We’re safe now!” Marie quickly assures him. She pets his pointed ears. “That whole experience just left me feeling... odd. Not alone— I have Maman and Raphael and you now…!”
Fondue licks her hand.
Marie releases a breath. “L-like I said, I’m probably fussing over nothing… But sometimes I miss being normal.”
Drawing a complete blank, Fondue stares at her.
Normal… What does that even mean?
Marie shakes her head. That fake-happy smile returns to her face. “S-sorry for rambling— please don’t tell Raphael?”
Fondue scratches his nose with his paw.
“Thanks, Fon—“
“STOP RIGHT THERE, PHANTOM!”
Fondue recognises that furious shout. He springs off the bench.
Raphael— dressed as Phantom R, drenched in strawberry sauce and sprinkles, and juggling three ice cream cones in his arms— careens past them. “Be right back, guys—!”
A barrage of footballs follows him. Then, none other than Charlie Vergier, screaming: “GET BACK HERE WITH THOSE ICE CREAMS! YOU THIEVING FIEND! YOU’RE DISTURBING THE PEACE OF PARIS—!”
“Oh, dear,” Marie mutters as Charlie tries to chase Phantom R up a tree.
Fondue grumbles. He should help Raphael somehow— possibly by biting Charlie’s leg— but Raphael wanted him to watch over Marie, so…
Fondue lies down on the grass. He looks from Marie to the feuding pair, who resemble a barking dog and a yowling cat.
“Roeuf!” Fondue points out.
Finally, Marie laughs out loud. “I think you’re right, Fondue… Maybe I’m not the only odd one, after all?”
Fondue— the mixed-breed Alsatian Cheesehund— happily agrees, “Woeuf.”