"Tu m'avais dit, dès ma plus tendre enfance "Bien mal acquis ne profite jamais." En grandissant, au fil de l'existence, j'ai vu que ce n'était pas toujours vrai." Carrying a tray of freshly baked muffins, Monet danced around the kitchen singing
T'es plus dans le coup, papa. Twirling around the kitchen giddily, Monet smiled as she placed the muffins
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Speaking of better things to do, he offered a charming, fresh smile for the woman in the kitchen. Pink outfits older than his mother were not quite his style, but she wore it well.
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Of course, he didn't say that.
"This is divine, Monet." He smiled after a moment, offering a hand out to greet her. "And its Cameron, but friends call me Cam."
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Perhaps she could take over one of the more boring shifts that he could live without.
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He had difficulty believing a girl like her would be very good at investigating crime or saving the world, however. Not unless the key to saving it was flashing the enemy and seducing criminals with mediocre baked gods.
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