[ WP ] Set a story under or above Paris at night .

`` Jacques, you're digging your teeth into my crown. Stop it!'' 
 
 `` Elise, why are you complaining? We've been squished in these walls for centuries and only *now* you complain?'' 
 
 `` I only ever notice when you start shifting around. And it happens more often than you realize.'' 
 
 Some of the other skulls piped in agreement with Elise, and Jacques submitted to their will. 
 
 He sighed. `` It's always so quiet down here.'' 
 
 `` Less so, since the tourists started gaining access to our tunnels. But yes, on the whole it's been rather quiet.'' 
 
 They and the others allowed the melancholy silence to wash over them; with it came the horrid memories of how their rest was defiled and how they were brutally forced into their current state, accompanied only by fading images of the blissful village lives from which they were torn away. 
 
 After a time, Jacques broke the silence. He whispered, `` You still love me, yes?'' 
 
 She strained to shift her gaze upward and met his with sarcastic eye sockets. `` Not that I have a choice; I'm stuck with you forever.'' 
 
 `` I take that as a begrudging'yes.''' 
 
 `` Indeed, husband.'' 
 
 `` Then I too still love you, *mi amour*. If we could leave here, I would take you all around the city tonight.'' 
 
 `` Ugh, you're so *cheesy*. And it's always nighttime down here; what makes tonight so special?.'' 
 
 `` Only the more reason to show you my love, darling.'' 
 
 A prompt `` Get a room!'' was uttered, followed by a roar of assent. 
 
 Jacques retorted, `` We're in Paris, for crying out loud!'' 
 
 `` Shhhh,'' said a skull farther down the tunnel. `` I can hear the tourists coming.'' 
 
 Then silence fell over the trapped souls once more as they all keenly listened to the sounds of echoing footsteps. They were used to encountering researchers, photographers, and the increasingly frequent thrill-seekers. Each visitor had a unique step. Some were heavy with exhaustion; others seemed more tentative. The tenants of the catacombs could usually tell which kind of person would enter their halls just from that, but these footsteps had a different sort of distinctness to them. The skulls heard it before, but it was rare enough that they could not pinpoint precisely what it was. 
 
 The tourists' faces gave them the information they needed: the skulls could see a sort of remorse in the couples' eyes as they looked on from head to head. Instead of analyzing or hypothesizing about the past, these people seemed to be paying their respects. The inhabitants of the walls were deeply moved by the man and woman's sympathy. Such a sentiment was hardly found in the explorers of nights past. After the couple returned to the surface, a similar sort of somber stillness to the one before overcame them -- but this time, for some reason, they were put at ease. It felt as though, if only for a few brief moments, the spirits could rest. 
 
 `` Good night, Elise.'' 
 
 `` Good night, my love.''
