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Description
We took the earliest flight to Venice possible. We had to travel long and far across the rising plain of Italy to get to island-city. Once there, we grabbed a gondola and relaxed in the back. I sighed, there was hardly any room for the two of us, and I had to lie down half ways on and off of Mark's chest. It was lean and comfortable, I admitted to myself awkwardly, but chased that thought away.
   The city of Venice was one of a romanticist's dreams. The clear water glittered under the sun, catching the sunlight and making it glimmer back at me. As I looked down into the waters, I gasped and shuffled backwards. The fish that had swam past scared me and I found myself curled up on Mark's chest. He patted my back uncomfortably, and I composed myself once more, refusing to look back down into the waters.
   'Ah... Yees, zis iz ze 'omestead of 'iz eet iz quite ze, how you say, attraction to ze tourists. I look zem every day 'ere, yees...' Our director carried on in this monotonous fashion.
   Mark and I whispered quietly to one another in our places at the back of the boat. We were interrupted by a jolt as the boat harboured in on a platform leading to a house.
   Gates' homestead was a humble house. The steps up to its front door were artistically carved wood but now were destroyed from the regular flooding. In the main room, small crowds of people were gathered in the small house.
   I followed Mark as he pointed things out to me but I wasn't listening. I saw a small little passage way that was blocked off. I glanced around and raced towards it quietly. I saw Mark hiss at me, and he reluctantly followed my lead. The space was not small to hold both of us, and we passed through in single file. Underneath it led into a newly plastered gallery that was protected from the water.
   We explored the place extensively, I ran into what looked like another passage, however it was a dead end. I turned back but came face to face with Mark. Seeing as he was a head taller than me, I was faced with his toned chest.
   I scolded myself for these thoughts at once and we moved awkwardly around each other until the small passage way had locked us close together. We stared at each other but I glanced away and felt his familiar and alluring scent in my nostrils pleasantly.
   I was the first one to move on and I made my way out to the hidden gallery slowly. I felt his gaze on me and stopped to throw a glance over my shoulder. However, he had his back turned, but he looked to be contemplating something deeply. I passed the feeling in the pit of my stomach off as hunger and fatigue mixed with longing for home.

We returned to the main part of the art gallery inconspicuously, but found nothing interesting except a few paintings that had no doubt been found and stored in the big open space. The tour guide was on the way back down and we followed the group. We glanced around us for any clues to help the Professor in his mission. We nearly didn't notice the tall, stocky men that entered the gallery in their long coats and shaded faces.
   When we did, we ducked down and slid carefully along the walls trying not to damage the paintings or be seen. However it made no difference, they spotted us as we swung out the door. There were no gondolas in sight, and I glanced around and upon seeing the door of the art gallery open slightly, I grabbed Mark's hand and led him around the narrow wooden platform that the house was built on.
   I took in my bearings and I jumped across the waters grabbing on to the old stone house and sliding out of the way in order to let Mark follow. I uneasily saw him look beneath him into the glassy, watery depth and over at me. I coaxed him and closing his eyes tight, he leapt across the waters to me. I grappled with him to try and pull him on to the wooden platform with me.
   I ended up in between him and the wall and I quickly turned around so as not to be caught in an awkward position again. I slid out, along the grey stone building. We kept going on like this for a while until we thought we had finally lost them.
   We made it to the main square where the town hall and court was. I let out a breath of relief I hadn't known I was holding in. I saw him settling down on the town hall steps and joined him under the blistering sun. I cursed myself for not bringing sunglasses as I shaded my eyes from the blinding sun.
   I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and looked around, expecting to see a tourist. The big bulky man smiled behind us creepily and I attempted to struggle until I saw the gun he had pointed at Mark's back. Mark's face was a twisted grimace of regret and guilt. He struggled slightly, but ended up with the barrel of the gun being shoved into his back. I saw his eyes wince slightly at the pain.
   They took us away gruffly and somehow unknown to me, inconspicuously. I glanced regretfully at Mark before they blindfolded us, tied our hands and shoved us into the gondolas. How was I meant to get out of this one?

Description
We took the earliest flight to Venice possible. We had to travel long and far across the rising plain of Italy to get to island-city. Once there, we grabbed a gondola and relaxed in the back. I sighed, there was hardly any room for the two of us, and I had to lie down half ways on and off of Mark's chest. It was lean and comfortable, I admitted to myself awkwardly, but chased that thought away.
   The city of Venice was one of a romanticist's dreams. The clear water glittered under the sun, catching the sunlight and making it glimmer back at me. As I looked down into the waters, I gasped and shuffled backwards. The fish that had swam past scared me and I found myself curled up on Mark's chest. He patted my back uncomfortably, and I composed myself once more, refusing to look back down into the waters.
   'Ah... Yees, zis iz ze 'omestead of 'iz eet iz quite ze, how you say, attraction to ze tourists. I look zem every day 'ere, yees...' Our director carried on in this monotonous fashion.
   Mark and I whispered quietly to one another in our places at the back of the boat. We were interrupted by a jolt as the boat harboured in on a platform leading to a house.
   Gates' homestead was a humble house. The steps up to its front door were artistically carved wood but now were destroyed from the regular flooding. In the main room, small crowds of people were gathered in the small house.
   I followed Mark as he pointed things out to me but I wasn't listening. I saw a small little passage way that was blocked off. I glanced around and raced towards it quietly. I saw Mark hiss at me, and he reluctantly followed my lead. The space was not small to hold both of us, and we passed through in single file. Underneath it led into a newly plastered gallery that was protected from the water.
   We explored the place extensively, I ran into what looked like another passage, however it was a dead end. I turned back but came face to face with Mark. Seeing as he was a head taller than me, I was faced with his toned chest.
   I scolded myself for these thoughts at once and we moved awkwardly around each other until the small passage way had locked us close together. We stared at each other but I glanced away and felt his familiar and alluring scent in my nostrils pleasantly.
   I was the first one to move on and I made my way out to the hidden gallery slowly. I felt his gaze on me and stopped to throw a glance over my shoulder. However, he had his back turned, but he looked to be contemplating something deeply. I passed the feeling in the pit of my stomach off as hunger and fatigue mixed with longing for home.

We returned to the main part of the art gallery inconspicuously, but found nothing interesting except a few paintings that had no doubt been found and stored in the big open space. The tour guide was on the way back down and we followed the group. We glanced around us for any clues to help the Professor in his mission. We nearly didn't notice the tall, stocky men that entered the gallery in their long coats and shaded faces.
   When we did, we ducked down and slid carefully along the walls trying not to damage the paintings or be seen. However it made no difference, they spotted us as we swung out the door. There were no gondolas in sight, and I glanced around and upon seeing the door of the art gallery open slightly, I grabbed Mark's hand and led him around the narrow wooden platform that the house was built on.
   I took in my bearings and I jumped across the waters grabbing on to the old stone house and sliding out of the way in order to let Mark follow. I uneasily saw him look beneath him into the glassy, watery depth and over at me. I coaxed him and closing his eyes tight, he leapt across the waters to me. I grappled with him to try and pull him on to the wooden platform with me.
   I ended up in between him and the wall and I quickly turned around so as not to be caught in an awkward position again. I slid out, along the grey stone building. We kept going on like this for a while until we thought we had finally lost them.
   We made it to the main square where the town hall and court was. I let out a breath of relief I hadn't known I was holding in. I saw him settling down on the town hall steps and joined him under the blistering sun. I cursed myself for not bringing sunglasses as I shaded my eyes from the blinding sun.
   I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and looked around, expecting to see a tourist. The big bulky man smiled behind us creepily and I attempted to struggle until I saw the gun he had pointed at Mark's back. Mark's face was a twisted grimace of regret and guilt. He struggled slightly, but ended up with the barrel of the gun being shoved into his back. I saw his eyes wince slightly at the pain.
   They took us away gruffly and somehow unknown to me, inconspicuously. I glanced regretfully at Mark before they blindfolded us, tied our hands and shoved us into the gondolas. How was I meant to get out of this one?