Appiah, who was sitting at a table watching the man, sits up and slowly walks closer. His dark brown eyes flick from Ann and Arman to the man in the blacker than black coat, and he calls out in harsh, mangled English spotted with West African French. “Monsieur, have you seen them? Have you seen les Ancetres? I think you are a blessed man. I will listen. ****, TAIS-TOI! bumIEDS-TOI!” The little mongrel dog that had been dancing around the man in the black coat and barking whines, sitting down on the ground.

Appiah smiles apologetically, sitting down closer to the man who adressed them.