"That's what I want to know," said the guard, frowning. "You come out of there. And you, come out from behind that rope--it's there for a reason." The guard took her arm to move her along.

Not a good idea. Lupus was around the altar in a flash, snarling, //"Eximo femina!"//

Mozelle reacted instinctively, catching him as he headed toward the startled guard. //"Sedo, Lupus! Sedo."//

The guard backed away a few steps, watching the oddly dressed young man warily. "Oh, hell, I thought we had a problem when the Society for Creative Anachronism visited the Da Vinci exhibit. You two just move along, or I'll have to have you ejected."

"Hey, no need to get prickly. I'll go." She snatched up her purse *Thank God it's still here* and started toward the door.

//"Mozelle, manere!"//

She paused, looking back at Lupus. There had been a tinge of desperation in his voice, and she could see it in his eyes now. *He isn't scared because he's just been dropped into another world,* she thought, surprised. *I don't think it's really sunk in yet. I know it took me a little while. No, he's upset because I'm leaving him.*

She considered just turning and walking away. If she did, if she completely ignored him and left him to his own devices, what would happen? He didn't speak the language, except very roughly, he'd be confronted by things that would probably seem supernatural to him, and he'd be stumbling in a culture he knew nothing about.

*Plus he has no identity, no papers, and no way to prove he exists. He's in the same position I was in Rome. They might not sell him into slavery, but it's almost certain he'll end up in jail, with the INS trying to figure out who the hell he is. America doesn't like undocumented people, especially lately, and if he explains things to them, they'll probably drop him straight in the fruit bin, and there's no telling if he'd ever get out. Fuck. I guess I'm responsible for him.*

All these thoughts flashed through her mind in a split second. Lupus could tell that she was indecisive, and his heart thundered with apprehension. What would he do if she rejected him? What if she called the guards to have him removed? If she was indeed a free citizen in this place, she would have a legitimate complaint against him. She frowned, her little jaw firming. For anyone who hadn't been around Mozelle long, that might have seemed ominous. Lupus felt relieved. She might not like what she was about to do, but she'd do it anyway.

She jerked her head toward the door. //"Sequi."// She glanced at the still suspicious guard, and the growing crowd of interested onlookers. Suddenly she smiled. "You have just witnessed a piece of performance art. Watch the papers for notice of where we'll be performing next." She hissed at Lupus, "Bow!" He looked at her blankly. She sketched a quick bow, motioning him to copy her. Completely bewildered, he did so. He was even more confused by the smattering of applause.

Mozelle grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the exhibit room. He said, "Mozelle, we talk."

"Not now!" she hissed. "We need to get out of here before that guard decides to have us forcibly removed. I do not need to try to explain you to a cop."

"Cop?"

"You'll learn. We need someplace to talk. I could use some food, too. What with all the nonsense that went on last night, I didn't eat. Esurio?"

He was touched by the show of concern for his comfort, but didn't think out his response. //"Only for you."//

"Stop it, right there! None of that. I meant food, and you know it, Lupus. Come on."

She led him out of the museum, grumbling to herself. There was a ticket on her car, and that made her swear, even though she thought grudgingly that she could be grateful that it hadn't been towed. The fifty-dollar fine was going to be bad enough. She noticed Lupus eyeing the car in confusion, touching it gingerly, and thought, *Uh oh.* "Lupus, you're going to see a lot of things that will startle you here. These," she touched the car, "are one of them. They move. People ride in them. They make a lot of noise, and they'll hurt you bad if you get in front of them, and the driver can't stop in time. Think of a runaway chariot."

He nudged the tire with his foot, and gave her a skeptical look. He obviously couldn't conceive of anything this big moving without having several horses dragging it. Right about then a car turned the corner--an ancient little Yugo with a very bad motor. It pooted slowly down the street, belching smoke, rattling, squealing, and coughing in a manner that said the driver was probably keeping it moving through sheer willpower. Lupus didn't yell, but he gasped, and his eyes got round. He moved quickly to put the bulk of Scribe's car between him and this frightening apparition, then realized that he was actually touching another of the things, and a bigger one than that which had startled him.

He stepped back so quickly that he tripped and sat down suddenly on the sidewalk. People entering the museum stared. Mozelle sighed. "I just can't take you anywhere." She shook her head. "What's going to happen when you see a semi? Oh, well. There's at least one male in the world now who isn't obsessed with cars."

She opened the door and gestured toward the interior. "Get in." Lupus, standing up, shook his head firmly. "Damn it, Lupus! Things aren't as localized here as they are where you come from. You can't get everywhere you need to go on foot, not without risking being run over, and I'm not leaving my car here to be towed. I can't afford the impound fees. Why am I telling you this like you'll actually understand?" She sighed, looking around. "Okay, food first, and maybe I can explain a few things to you."

It had to be something within walking distance. What was open this early? She spotted a familiar sign a couple of blocks down. "C'mon, let's go visit Ronald."

Lupus followed her. //"Is this Ronald a friend of yours?"//

"Not exactly."

Lupus felt a twinge of jealousy. //"A good friend?"//

"I've never actually met..." His tone suddenly struck her. She turned an astonished look on him. "He's a clown--balatro."

//"We don't need to be entertained now, Mozelle. We need to talk about our situation."//

"Oh, God help me. This is going to be worse than trying to help a foreigner, because just about everyone in the modern world has some concept of American pop culture. I'm taking you to get food. Um, taburnus? Except don't try to order any alcohol. You wouldn't believe how boogery the liquor laws are here in the Bible Belt."

Lupus followed Mozelle down to the fast food restaurant. By the time they'd reached it, he'd almost stopped shying every time a car drove by. Mozelle had to give him credit for having a little nerve. He was still a little reluctant to walk through the parking lot--passing so close to so many possible threats was a little nerve wracking.

The McDonalds was busy. Mozelle would have preferred somewhere more quiet, but there wasn't a lot of choice at this time of the morning in downtown. She pulled him to the side through the doors, preparing to orient him a little before braving the counter.

He was rubbing his arms. //"Exaequo frigus."//

"It's called 'air conditioning'. You'll learn to love it. Okay, this is what's called a fast food restaurant, though sometimes 'fast' is a relative term, especially if you hit it during a rush."

"Restaurant?"

"A place to buy prepared food."

"Ah." Lupus pointed to one of the plastic molded booths. "We sit?"

"After we get the food. It's sort of self-serve here, a totally alien concept to you, I know." She indicated the line up to the counter. "We wait, then tell them what we want. They fix it and give it to us. I pay, and we eat. Simple?"

He gave her a look. //"I'm not Gaius, you know. You don't have to explain everything."//

"Tell me that the first time you try to use the wrong gender public restroom." She led him over and they got in line.

A small child in front turned to stare at them. He tugged his father's hand, then said, "Daddy, that man is wearing a dress."

The father didn't turn around. "Don't stare. Remember what I told you about that."

"Okay." The little boy looked at Lupus. "Mister, are you a mosexshul?" The father quickly stepped out of line and pulled the protesting boy out of the restaurant.

Lupus blinked. //"What was that all about?"//

"The fact that you may try to act politically correct in public, but your kids will tell on you every time. I'm going to order for you. Even if you could read English, it would take forever to explain a McRib sandwich."

//"What is a 'sandwich'?"//

"Oh, lord."

The female clerk's smile faltered only slightly when she got a look at her next customers. "Welcome to McDonalds! What can I get for you today?"

"This is my friend's first trip to America," Mozelle explained, before Lupus could start spouting Latin. "I decided to show him some quintessential American food."

The clerk had only a vague idea of what quintessential meant, but it sounded complimentary. "Sure! What would you like?"

"Oo, um..." Mozelle studied the menu. "Let's have four of the bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits, a large diet Coke," she looked at Lupus. "What do you want to drink?"

//"Vinum."//

"I don't think that even in France does McDonalds serve wine. Make that a medium orange juice. Oh, and a couple of the apple pies, too."

Lupus peered over Mozelle, gazing into the back where the other clerks were bustling about efficiently. //"They are all dressed the same. Even the women."//

"Over here it isn't just the army that wears uniforms. Don't stare--it'll get you smacked some places. And get used to seeing women in pants."

He sniffed hungrily. //"It smells delicious. This must be a fine cookhouse."//

"Millions of grade school kids would agree with you."

The clerk was busily ringing up the sale. When the register started beeping and chittering, Lupus grabbed Mozelle and shoved her behind himself. The clerk paused. "Miss, is there something wrong?"

"He's protecting me from the cash register." That earned a stare. "It's a long story. He means well. Lupus, it isn't going to explode."

She stepped back to the counter, digging in her purse while Lupus kept a mistrustful eye on the strange object sitting on the counter, ready to snatch Mozelle out of harm's way if necessary. She handed over several bills, then said, "Drop the change in the jar for Jerry's kids," and picked up the tray of food.

Lupus followed her to a booth. //"Mozelle, don't you have to pay?"//

"I did pay."

//"But you just gave her some pieces of paper."//

"Trust me, it's money."

//"No gold? No silver or copper?"// he asked, obviously stumped by the concept.

"No gold since before I was born, and good luck finding actual silver in the silver coins. I'm not even sure if pennies are unadulterated copper any more." He started to say something, "And before you ask, no you can't just draw up as much money as you want." She sat down, mumbling, "Nip that concept right in the bud. I don't want him trying to pass out Monopoly money. I'd love explaining that to people. They'd either lock him up, or try to put him in a 'special' class. Just eat for a little while, okay? Give my brain a chance to aclimate again."

Lupus accepted the food, examining the thin paper wrapper, imprinted with the company logo, with great interest. He tore through his biscuit sandwiches, his expression pleased. *He's going to be easy to please, at least in the food areay,* Mozelle thought. *Cooking was so hit-or-miss with the open hearths and lack of thermostats that standardized prepared food will probably seem like a marvel. Sure, Malanda spoiled him, but if he had to eat out in public places, he knows how iffy food can be.*

The apple pie puzzled him a little. There was't a lot of deep frying in ancient times, given the difficulty of keeping large pots of grease at a high enough temperature for long periods of time. He experimentally poked the pie a couple of times, but the sugary cinnamon scent over-rode his misgivings. He broke off a corner and nibbled, then finished it in three bites, and eyed Mozelle's pie. She sighed, and pushed the treat toward him. "I guess it's sort of my fault you're here, so I'll have to feed you."

He sifted through what she had said, mentally interpretting it, then got a proud look on his face. //"I am responsible for myself, Mozelle--dependent on no one."// He smiled in a manner that was just smug enough to be infuriating. //"Much less a woman."//

Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, really?"

//"Really. I am no babe--I am a man, and a sensible, competent one at that. I am sure I will have no trouble making my way in your world."// He had finished his juice. Now he indicated her cup. //"I am still thirsty. Will you share a sip of your drink?"//

"You wouldn't want that--it's..." She paused, then smiled sweetly, pushing it toward him. "Sure, go ahead."

Lupus eyed the straw curiously, then pushed it aside and took a swallow. His eyes didn't quite bug as the carbonation bubbles danced around his mouth, and the peculiar chemical-sweet flavor of a diet soda surged over his tongue. He choked, snorted, and spat. "Ew," she said calmly. "How rude." He was holding his nose, eyes watering. "Burns when it comes out the nose, doesn't it? I haven't had that happen since I was a kid and was watching a Jerry Lewis movie. It was The Geisha Boy, and I had a mouthful of soda at the exact moment the rabbit comes sliding down the banister."

He gave her a reproachful look. She shrugged, and offered him a napkin. When he looked at it, then at her, she gently blotted his face and hands. "Maybe next time you'll listen to me, oh Great and Capable One." He understood enough of her meaning to blush, and she nodded. "Listen to me when I tell you something, Lupus. It will almost always be for a good reason. And right now I'm telling you that you're going to have to ride inside a car. It's the only way I'm going to be able to get you home, and it's a part of this world. You're going to have to learn how to deal with it."

He didn't look pleased, but he nodded. "I..." A pause, brow wrinkled in concentration. "Adapt?"

She stared at him. *Damn. I think he just might be here long enough for that word to be justified.*