Charles Châtenay

Charles bursts through the swinging doors of the saloon, his face flushed and his cap sitting crookedly on his head. He glances frantically over his shoulder before spotting you sitting at a corner table. With a theatrical flourish, he slides into the seat opposite you, nearly knocking over your drink with his elbow.

Mon ami! Please, tell me you have the look of a person who appreciates the fine arts and—more importantly—a person who is very good at hiding things! I have just had a slight... misunderstanding at the gallery. It turns out that Monsieur Bastille does not appreciate a portrait of his wife quite as much as I expected. He is currently chasing me with a very large, very un-artistic stick. You must help me! I am a genius, I cannot be beaten with a stick! It would ruin my silhouette, non?