[Write a scene that describes: 

2.  Marguerite explaining to you why, although she loves America and all
things American, that she has to go back to France. (It has nothing to do
with health problems or FSA authorities.)

3.  Any romantic scene between TJ and Marguerite.]

* * * * *

Tidalay, 2:16am, November 24, 2136

The eerie sounds of watermusic pass through the neighborhood, slightly
reminiscent of a lullaby.  Taller buildings loom over the submerged
streets, dotted with lights.  A festively-painted skimcab revs its
electric motor and pulls away from a small all-night convenience store on
the corner, the only traffic moving at this hour.  

On an eighth floor balcony, five stories above the waterline at high tide,
a man and a woman sit together on a small pile of cushions, feet on the
railing, blankets wrapped around them to ward off the chill.  Nearby, a
dog is curled up beneath a small table.  

"More espresso?" asks the man, squeezing her hand beneath the blankets.
She shakes her head gently and leans back a bit farther, watching the way
the clouds skid past the moon.

Some time passes as they both watch the nighttime sky, listening as the
watermusic changes with the waves.  Her voice is soft and she speaks
rapidly with a heavy French accent.  She is telling a story, a brief
anecdote she uncovered during the day as she sat before a monitor in the
Archives, screening ancient footage.  He laughs appreciatively and hugs
her a bit closer.  

"Are you sure your flight leaves on Wednesday?" he asks, lightly; the
slight tension in his shoulders and the way his eyes focus on hers are
anything but light, however.  She looks away briefly, her head moving
quickly through a short nod.

Turning her eyes back to him, she elaborates.  "Wednesday morning.  I'll
have to pack, of course, and there are some further details at the
Archives which I must research."  There is a slight undertone of
nervousness in her voice as she murmurs, "But yes, I must return home."

Neither of them move for a long moment.  They search each other's eyes,
seeing questions, traces of regret, a suspicious mistiness in the corners.
Finally he asks why.

Her response is careful, and she pauses at intervals to reorganize her
thoughts.  "There are many reasons," she says.  "The first is that it is
my home.  I do love this country, but..."

"But it isn't your home," he finishes.    

She nods, a brief smile passing across her face.  "Yes.  You understand.
And also, there are those I work with, colleagues, and I should not leave
them so abruptly while there is so much to do."

His eyes narrow slightly and he tilts his head to one side.  "But I
thought the point of coming here was to *do* that work."

"Some of it, yes.  And," she adds with a mischievous gleam in her eye, "it
will be an excellent reason to come back, again."  He laughs and relaxes
slightly.  "And I also have my family to return to.  A sister, and my
aunt."  

The man's mouth opens slightly, and he begins to say something but stops
himself.  Grinning sheepishly, he finally remarks, "Well, as long as
you're planning on coming back."

The matter settled, they return to looking out over the dark shadows of
Tidalay.  

Fingers entwining in hers, he murmurs, "We should go surfing again before
you go.  A little more practice, and you'll master it."

* * * * *