"A lady wants to see you.She is a singer and dancer."
"Je le sais.I 've never seen such a nice girl."
My disapproval.Because he was always so... abandon the old for the new.
**Chapter one**
Things weren't going so great for Kirkland.
His stupid economy was in trouble—yet again.It.. it was kind of weird.
The City of Paris was everything Arthur Kirkland had expcted.Immense,vociferous and-above all else-French.
Call him a British man to the end but he preferred the meandering streets of London to the cramped roads of La Ville-Lumière.But that's not say he was completely opposed to French culture.Despite their military history,supercilious culinary views and general "French-ness".Arthur would not scoff at their wine.
And now he found himself on the Seine,sitting on a bridge,feet dangling over the dark waters as he sipped a glass of wine,his small suitcase porpped under his arm.People moved all around him,ignoring him due to his slightly hobo-isn appearance,though a few stopped long enough to inspect the label on the wine.Overhead, the sky sparkled witch satellites and airplanes, the light emanating from the city too bright for the stars to shine through。Down the river,the Eiffel Tower shimmered brightly.Artur scoffed, downing his wine.The tour Eiffel held nothing to the majesty Westminster Abbey,Stonehenge of Cambrdage.
He leaned against the rauling,couting backwards from ten.As ifhis luck wasn't bad enough in the first place.Wondering vaguely if his hotel card was in his pocket,he fished in them.A sigh escaoed his lips as his fingers found nothing but lint and few coins.Now what going to do?He was stranded in the middle of a foreign city wich nothing to his name but an empty bottle of wine and suitcase with two shirts and a book.He knew he needed help but he didn't know anyone in France.
"Fuck!"
Arthur bent over,hands on his knees as he wheezed for breath,his lungs burning.
At least people were giving him a wide berth now.Crouching he wrapped his arm around his legs and buried his face in his knees,trying to igonre the warm pricks at the comers of his eyes.He hated how the bottle of wine wasn't doing it's job.
The rest of world was not sympathetic to his plight.A car honked at him and he could hear the driver yelling at him in French.People were gathering now, the horn was still blaring and a boat was on the river,a loud wedding party taking place on its deck,adding a throbbing beat to the chaos,Artur didn't move,juest lifted his hands and clamped them over his ears,trying thingk through the din.Maybe if the car hit him,he'd get severe brain damage and end up in a coma for rest of his life.Vegetable could still drink,right?
Before he could bash his head into the front of the car, twi hands had grabbed his shoulders,hoisting him to his feet.A new,much calmer,French vioce joined the noise and confusion.He kept his eyes closed and his hands over his ears,the unfamiliar touch somehow comforting amid the havoc of the street.The quiet rustling of leaves and the gentle whisper of the water soon replaced the roar of the avenue.The hands pressed down,making him sit.Finally daring to open his eyes,Arthur removed his hands from his ears.
He was under a brdge,sitting on a grassy hill that dipped into the Seine,Above,people still milled along,but the sound was somewhat muted now.He sighed,rubbing his temples."Que faisiez-vous sur la rue?C'est pas un bonne idée，particulièrement en la nuit"
"Je le sais.I 've never seen such a nice girl."
My disapproval.Because he was always so... abandon the old for the new.
**Chapter one**
Things weren't going so great for Kirkland.
His stupid economy was in trouble—yet again.It.. it was kind of weird.
The City of Paris was everything Arthur Kirkland had expcted.Immense,vociferous and-above all else-French.
Call him a British man to the end but he preferred the meandering streets of London to the cramped roads of La Ville-Lumière.But that's not say he was completely opposed to French culture.Despite their military history,supercilious culinary views and general "French-ness".Arthur would not scoff at their wine.
And now he found himself on the Seine,sitting on a bridge,feet dangling over the dark waters as he sipped a glass of wine,his small suitcase porpped under his arm.People moved all around him,ignoring him due to his slightly hobo-isn appearance,though a few stopped long enough to inspect the label on the wine.Overhead, the sky sparkled witch satellites and airplanes, the light emanating from the city too bright for the stars to shine through。Down the river,the Eiffel Tower shimmered brightly.Artur scoffed, downing his wine.The tour Eiffel held nothing to the majesty Westminster Abbey,Stonehenge of Cambrdage.
He leaned against the rauling,couting backwards from ten.As ifhis luck wasn't bad enough in the first place.Wondering vaguely if his hotel card was in his pocket,he fished in them.A sigh escaoed his lips as his fingers found nothing but lint and few coins.Now what going to do?He was stranded in the middle of a foreign city wich nothing to his name but an empty bottle of wine and suitcase with two shirts and a book.He knew he needed help but he didn't know anyone in France.
"Fuck!"
Arthur bent over,hands on his knees as he wheezed for breath,his lungs burning.
At least people were giving him a wide berth now.Crouching he wrapped his arm around his legs and buried his face in his knees,trying to igonre the warm pricks at the comers of his eyes.He hated how the bottle of wine wasn't doing it's job.
The rest of world was not sympathetic to his plight.A car honked at him and he could hear the driver yelling at him in French.People were gathering now, the horn was still blaring and a boat was on the river,a loud wedding party taking place on its deck,adding a throbbing beat to the chaos,Artur didn't move,juest lifted his hands and clamped them over his ears,trying thingk through the din.Maybe if the car hit him,he'd get severe brain damage and end up in a coma for rest of his life.Vegetable could still drink,right?
Before he could bash his head into the front of the car, twi hands had grabbed his shoulders,hoisting him to his feet.A new,much calmer,French vioce joined the noise and confusion.He kept his eyes closed and his hands over his ears,the unfamiliar touch somehow comforting amid the havoc of the street.The quiet rustling of leaves and the gentle whisper of the water soon replaced the roar of the avenue.The hands pressed down,making him sit.Finally daring to open his eyes,Arthur removed his hands from his ears.
He was under a brdge,sitting on a grassy hill that dipped into the Seine,Above,people still milled along,but the sound was somewhat muted now.He sighed,rubbing his temples."Que faisiez-vous sur la rue?C'est pas un bonne idée，particulièrement en la nuit"
