He might not be able to see it, but the smile's written all over her and clinging in the sound of her voice so it's pretty damn hard to miss. So he doesn't press the issue - she can stand however long she wants to at the window.

Reaffirming his grip on his cane, Charlie shrugs. Cab, definitely cab. "I'm not glass. I'll manage." Because really, how far can it be? And there'll be more for her to gawk at on foot than from the back of cab, and he'd be loathe to take that from her.

He levers himself back up to his feet. "Just no roast duck, eh?" Because it would be a shame to end the trip subsisting on peanut butter and jelly after blowing their budget in Paris on the first day, right?