Rivals.

L lay on luxury king sized bed in the hotel, his long, thin fingers retracing where her lips had been. Was she going to see him tomorrow and kiss him again or...? He wanted her to.

No. He was not seriously thinking about this. He wasn't acting himself lately, and he was sure it was all down to Deneuve's appearance. Maybe he had sent this girl to mess with his mind or maybe, just maybe, she was the real thing.

Either way, he couldn't stop his thoughts replaying the kiss over and over again.

Makenna lay flat on her face mumbling glumly in French. What the hell was wrong with her? Why had she done that?

She hung desperately on the hope that this, "Charles" was not really L.