"Paint over the dust? Messere," Fifi chides, with a look that says We're Joking But I'll Kill You-- but doesn't linger on it, as the mural of the dog distracts her.

"I don't know," she admits with a half-smile, retrieving a rag from her basket to tenderly wipe some grime from the dog's face, "Antiva, perhaps. To hear its music, and see the markets."