"Quelle?" The grape adorned mademoiselle blinks in surprise as she stares between the two tourists and the coat rack. The males stare back, somehow both equally earnest. "Oui, but of course..."
"To a red head and a boy?"
The French woman slowly nods, appearing perplexed and recollective. Her oceanic eyes stray more towards Jarl's aerial ones, perhaps seeing the familial love glowing within them and finding it more appealing than whatever glows in Áesta’s. She then picks an article off the rack and holds it out to the priest, "Le boy received zhis as a présent from zhe man."
"I ndáiríre?"
Instinct or intuition, perhaps; or maybe he just seems too foolish and fervent.
"Le boy came in both bleak and... brattach. He was complaining of a... lack of use--of need, razher--for a new cloak. Le man refused to listen--insisting zhat zhey were heading somewhere even colder zhan here--and bought him zhis veste.
Jarl and Áesta can only stare.
~
The Grape Mademoiselle perks up as Áesta raises an incredulous eyebrow. "Vous knows French???"
The Irish priest flushes slightly, "Ah... n-no, I... simply learned some basics in school..."
"Unbelievable... He learns FRENCH but not IRISH!" The daemon dramatically rolls his eyes while shaking his head but maintains an amused grin the whole time, implying he is merely joking--or poking some fun.
Mademoiselle Grape smiles at the two of them. It is as though she finds them cute.
Le marchand grins, thrilled about a sale; "How 'bout one for your amoureux, too?"
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