[He seems a bit distracted as he settles down, seemingly confused. Then, with a startled sound he begins to mess with his hair. A series of muttered curses in French color his preening as he tries to plaster down stray hairs that do not exist, staring rather blankly after putting his hands down as if observing something. Hushed:] I look like a
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[When in doubt, divert attention away from failure... :I]
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You have long hair like a girl!
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Are you envious, ma petite?
[pauses to frown]
My hair is stylish.
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[Yup, Molly has no tact and is very oblivious]
You should braid it!
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I do not look like a girl.
I am very masculine!
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Do you have computers in France?
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I do not know, you insufferable brat. Do you have a social life outside of yours? [Because while France has computers, Francis is much too busy doing other things to be arsed, thank you very much.]
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Duh.
That's why I have more friends than you?
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[Papa is still #1 in tourism. Not your ass.]
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[And the mirror thing and wow Frances. Wow. WOW.]
...Aha...
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...Oh, my. Cherie! How are you?~ [He's feeling rather uplifted with his ability to not jump out of his skin and hold a conversation over video-chat, thank you! He's improving. Or well, so he thinks.]
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...I was so much better a few minutes ago.
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...Tell papa what is bothering you? Was it the pancakes? Not to fault you but they tasted suspiciously of boeuf. [Yes, he's this clueless]
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