Francis is lying, pale-faced, in a puddle of blood.
No, he is not dead. He is only on his way. He has been bleeding through his nose.
He has finally developed those photographs he had Picardy take; if any other nation sees them, it spells disaster for la République française. For they are all double-developed, and are all nudes. To some extent. Of everybody.
But he has walked into Headquarters, and if he ever wakes from this stupor, he will find this adjustment a difficult one.
This Francis, though as much a pervert as his brethren, is generally a gentleman and sly in seduction.
((ooc: hi, this is also quiet_sonata.))
He has finally developed those photographs he had Picardy take; if any other nation sees them, it spells disaster for la République française. For they are all double-developed, and are all nudes. To some extent. Of everybody.
But he has walked into Headquarters, and if he ever wakes from this stupor, he will find this adjustment a difficult one.
This Francis, though as much a pervert as his brethren, is generally a gentleman and sly in seduction.
((ooc: hi, this is also quiet_sonata.))