Max and Martine looked at each other doubtfully. Surely not, their eyes said. Up ahead, though, they could make out a faint neon glow. “A drink fir...t?” Max suggested. He was feeling a bit apprehensive. “I should think so,” Maxine replied, to his relief. They entered the corner bar and ordered a couple of beers. “Deux demi seize, s’il vous plais,” Max asked the waiter in his English accented French. They had learned not to order at the bar and then go and sit down as they would have done in. The next few days go abnormally. What qualifies as normal would be Penelope finding someone or something to fuck periodically. Instead, she hasn’t had anything stiff in her since Geubert in the cell. And by now she is getting real itchy down there. Hazel has been pretty happy, expressing her joy at finally having a normal journey and getting to the end of it without having to endure fucking another stranger.The problem is they are lost.I thought you witches could tell east from west and all. More

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