Logic looked over at Frenchie as he started talking into the phone but it became clear almost immediately that he was talking to a voicemail. Logic gulped. Of course he wouldn't come with them - she should have known that from the start. Nodding silently at Frenchie's words, Logic pulled back onto the road and headed down it at a normal speed, but she was also digging in her pocket for her own phone. Jeffery wasn't answering Frenchiems calls but would he ignore her? Logic dialed and put the phone up to her ear.

Tristan walked out of the large fireplace just a moment after Zoé had arrived, and unlike the pretty blonde girl, he was completely lost and confused in this new environment. Tristan didn't speak a word of German; he was lucky he knew as much English as he did. It was at that moment he realized the flaw in the plan - how stupid had he been not to realize that Germans would speak... well, German!? How were they supposed to get around in a place where they didn't know the language?

Zoé seemed quite confident, though, and was even able to read the signs on the walls and hanging from the ceilings. Tristan gave a soft, relieved sigh at this and began to lead the way out of the floo hub. "Now we should probably find a place to stay," he announced the obvious. But he couldn't be a lot of help now, and hoped Zoé knew enough German to sort of guide them around the foreign streets.

He turned his dark, brown eyes in her direction as they walked, examining her features - like a total creeper, though he wasn't really fully aware he was staring so shamelessly - as he tried to decide whether to take her hand or not. It had come so naturally earlier that day when they were running around the airport, but now... now he felt a little less sure... Back then, they had been running, she'd probably thought nothing of his hand around her own, probably assumed he just didn't want them to get lost. However, there was no rush where they were now, no real need to keep close. No one was going to jump out at random and attack them.

He thought quietly over all this as they walked, only tearing his gaze away from the girl at his side as he eventually walked straight into a lamppost, receiving the full impact right on his face. Ow.

Zoé walked over to Tristan and poked his shoulder to make sure he wasn't totally lost. He looked as if he was a deer staring into a car's headlight's as muggles say. She smiled and nodded. "We should find a place. And quickly too." she added, looking around her, once again, making sure that no one was coming to get them.

She turned red as she felt his eyes watching her. Blushing and smiling she looked the other direction to check the alleys to see if anyone was following them. Then BAM! Tristan had just walked into a lamppost.

"Oh my! Are YOU okay?" she asked with a worried tone of voice. "Let me see." she said, she squinted her eyes. Yep, it was going to bruise. She kissed the bruise and soon blushed.... Zoé.. had just kissed himmmmm..... She had just kissed.. Tristan. It was as if it was a natural response. She turned bright red out of pure embarrassement. She was making a fool out of herself. She coughed uncomfortably. "We.. We should probably keep on walking." she added and started walking again, until they had reached a hotel.

They entered into the lobby, which had sparkling white floors and a chandleir at the top. Walking over to the front desk, she gave a card to them. The lady pressed a couple of buttons on her keyboard.

"Miss Corey. You and your boyfriend are checked in." she handed them a room key. Zoé kept a straight face as the lady called Tristan her boyfriend. She smiled and grabbed Tristan's hand, pulling him towards the elevator.

Everything went blank for a brief second after Tristan hit his head, a dizzy sort of sensation washing over him before his whole head was consumed in the pain radiating from his forehead. He grimaced slightly to himself, bringing a hand over the sore spot on instinct before Zoé came over to him, asking if he was okay and… kissing him? Tristan's dark eyes widened. Alright, he really must have hit his head terribly hard if now he was hallucinating about Zoé giving him kisses.

As the blonde girl beside him began to turn red and quickly lead the way down the crowded streets in embarrassment, Tristan realized he hadn't been hallucinating at all, she'd really kissed him. Whoa! He grinned to himself like an idiot for the rest of the walk, a hand still gently massaging the sore spot on his forehead which now glowed bright red.

As the pair entered a hotel, Tristan looked around curiously while Zoé spoke with the woman behind the desk. Not knowing a word of German, he of course did not understand the woman's words or the fact that he had just been labeled as Zoé's boyfriend. It wasn't long until they were both in the elevator though, and soon enough they were walking down the hall over to their room. Tristan seemed perfectly content holding Zoé's hand, though his brows furrowed as they stopped at the door to their room. It was at that moment that he realized - Zoé only had one key. What - were they sharing one room?

Tristan's suspicions were confirmed as he and Zoé entered the room. It was small and had a cozy, comfortable feeling. There was even a tiny kitchen in one corner, and - much to Tristan's shock - one bed. But at least there was a couch in the small sitting area at another corner of the room.

After taking a moment to examine his surroundings, Tristan released Zoé's hand and headed over to the kitchen to take a small bag of ice and bring it to his aching forehead. To him, this wouldn't be nearly half as effective in making him feel better as the girl's kisses, but obviously he wasn't going to go and tell her that. Not yet, anyway. "So how're you feeling about heading back to England?" he asked her as he plopped down onto the couch and lit the fireplace with a wave of his wand. In all the time they'd spent together this past day, they hadn't really taken a moment to just… talk. They were always being awkward or running or being lost; it felt nice to finally have a chance to sit and relax for a change.

Frenchie sighed and looked out the window of the car he spotted a pole with a flier stapled to it, a flier with a familiar face. He got out of the card and walked over to the pole, he smiled satisfactory and ripped the flier off of the pole. Walking back to the car, he got in and sat down, "I think we found our dear Jeffery," he said showing her the flier, which showed a picture of Jeffery; it was advertising one of his races. "I think we should go to this race track maybe we'll see him there."

As the phone kept ringing... and ringing... and ringing, Logic turned to see Frenchie get out of the car. Frowning, she snapped the phone shut, but there wasn't much she could do except watch him head over to a telephone pole and rip something off of it. Odd. When he came back, Logic looked at the flier, her mouth slightly open. He was different than she had expected - more mature-looking. "...that's a good idea," she said finally, tearing her eyes away from it and putting the car back in drive.

Frenchie watched as Logic looked at the flier, he could see the longing in her eyes and he sighed slightly. "He might not be there," he said with a slight shrug, "but there might be someone there who knows where he is at?" Frenchie looked at the road, his mind buzzing with thoughts.

Logic turned her eyes back to Frenchie as he spoke, but she bit her tongue on what she wanted to say in response. In reality, half of her didn't want him to be there. Or anywhere they would find him - she was expecting to find someone who no longer existed. "Yeah, you're right," Logic said after a moment, recognizing the question at the end of his phrase.

Frenchie watched Logic out of the corner of his eye, he turned and looked at her, "What do we do if he doesn't want to come peacefully?" he asked as he looked down at the flier, "I don't know about you but I don't feel that comfortable with kidnapping Jeffery."

Logic looked over at Frenchie and slowed the car a bit at his question. She swallowed and blinked once before looking back at the road and resuming a normal speed. "Then we leave him. It's hard to say... but it's his choice. He's not our problem they are," she said as she slowed a bit to make a turn, following the large billboards everywhere.

Frenchie looked back at Logic, he could see how hard it was for her to say that he nodded slightly in agreement, "Then we leave hi behind," he said with a small sigh, "and we head back to London." He ran a hand through his blond hair, and tapped on the window with the tips of his fingers,