[ The feed clicks on, and there's a woman standing there, her gaze cast down towards the device. She's walking, and a few familiar locations from Discedo can be seen - the spires of the church behind her, the graveyard. She stops just shy of the park, and settles the device down for a second, looking up at her surroundings
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...Yeah, please excuse him while his brain breaks. ]
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Do you not know where you are either, mon petit?
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Okay, he's good. Maybe. ]
No, I know where I am I just--You have Monsieur France's last name, so I was surprised. Ahh...but perhaps it is only a coincidence...
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Monsieur France? A-ah, you mean Madame France, pas vous?
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It would be rude to call Papa Madame.
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Ahhh, who if I might ask, are you, mon petit?
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Cana...da? [ He's ...not supposed to be a he, she doesn't think. She blinks into the video. ]
A-ah, and your...papa, he is France, no?
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Oui, Monsieur France took care of me for a long time. [ The smile falters just a bit, as he switches back to calling France 'Monsieur'. He still...doesn't know how to address France here. Formally and detached--As England had wanted back home--or... ]
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Little one- ah, Mattieu, is -- there a female version of you, somewhere, here? [ Because at least Canada is someone she knows who isn't Rosemary. ] I think... there is something wrong here. Ah, you see, where I am from, I am France. La République Français.
[ Oh, he looks so young. Much younger than the Canada she remembers. ]
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Have a bit of staring. ]
Ah...so you are like Miss England? [ So weird. He's still not 100% sure Rosemary is England but, you know. He'll go with it. ]
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Ah - yes! Like Angleterre. Or - hm, Miss England I suppose you would know her.
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