"That's fairy names for you. They're usually mean jokes," Gavroche says. He sits on the edge of the stump, and as he does so, the world blurs and changes around them, the trees turning to tall stone buildings and the grass turning to cobblestone streets. The details are blurred, but Gavroche sits on a wrought iron chair, leaning on a wrought iron table. The building they all are besides smells of fresh bread cooking in the oven.

"I think it's about the lamb of God," Scout says. He doesn't react to the change in scenery, but as he speaks, there's a shift in the air. Times and places overlapping. Gavroche's space smells of bread, and the whiff Scout's words bring to it smells of spices and smoke smothering the scent of blood. There's music playing down the cobblestone road, a party happening, but none of the boys seem to be in any rush to acknowledge it. "Where everyone put the blame for their sins on the lamb, and then the lamb's sacrificed, so it's like no one sinned ever. It's great for everyone except the lamb."

Gavroche wrinkles his nose at Scout. "Is that what they said in church?"

"Did they say something different at yours?" Scout asks, furrowing his brow, as if slightly concerned that he may have recounted things wrong.

"Dunno, didn't go."