Noel’s French 101: Basic Phrases, Class 1

August 9, 2025

Date: 2025-08-08 15:02

(Noel’s French 101: Basic Phrases, Class 1)

[Fri Aug 8 2025]

A Musty Basement Seminar Room/span
The Plymouth Seminar Room occupies a windowless corner of the basement, its
low ceiling supported by exposed pipes that occasionally emit soft clicking
sounds as they expand and contract. Fluorescent lights cast an uneven glow
across rows of wooden chairs with attached writing tablets, their surfaces
marked by decades of student use. The walls, painted institutional beige,
display water stains near the corners where moisture has seeped through the
foundation. A heavy wooden table sits at the front of the room, its dark
surface reflecting the overhead lights in distorted patterns. The air carries
a persistent mustiness despite the ventilation grates set into the walls, and
the temperature remains several degrees cooler than the floors above. Cork
boards line one wall, their surfaces dotted with faded announcements and
peculiar symbols drawn in chalk that seem to shift slightly in peripheral
vision. The door, reinforced with a small wire-glass window, closes with a
weight that suggests its age and the settling of the building around it./span
It is about 65F(18C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At High and Lake/span

Justine shakes her head at Mirabel, pointing a finger. “Not true, Miss Kane. New theories about neuroplasticity claim you’re never too old to learn anything.

“Well, one can still be too old to bother,” Mirabel decides.

Kai jogs up to the tiered seating and lowers himself into a seat beside Sophie, he leans over to kiss her on the cheek and gives a wave to Derek as he settles in.

“Huh. It looks like Mister Ashford and Miss Callum have made up,” Mirabel gossips, peering nosily down the rows of seats. “How nice.”

“I think a cursory knowledge of languages is good for anyone. Especially ritualists. One should always know keywordslike hex, curse, doom, death, leap off the cliff in as many languages as possible.” Matias suggests to Mirabel and Justine from the back row while putting his phone on silent and tucking it away.

“Fair enough. But you’re not eighty, Miss Kane. Yet.” Justine says to Mirabel with a hint of a wink. “Yeah, the lovebirds are back together.” there’s a hint of resentment in her voice.

Completely nonchalantly, August spends the beginning period of the lecture scribing some cards after he’s sat down, then stuffing them down into a small card case. It’s left on his desk, and soon enough, he’s kicking his legs forward under his desk and crossing them by the ankles – arms folded soon enough, with eyes up on the chalkboard.

Nemi sighs softly, leaning back in her chair a bit as she pulls out a brand new gray notebook and promptly labels it.

Noel’s eyes fall upon Derek with a warm smile and a little wiggling of his fingers in greeting before the short-statured femboy begins, the tolling of the bell signaling the beginning of his lesson, and happily repeating his introduction before continuing. “As I said, class, I am Monsieur Noel Deveraux, many of you know me already and we are good friends,” he chimes chipperly, clasping his hands together before his chest with a pearly white smile that finds a sparkle in his eyes. “Today we will have our first class on the base concepts of mon native language: French! It is a language of romance and love, and those are mon specialty in my field of work. So, we shall begin!” That being said he turns to the chalkboard and pulls out a piece of pale pink chalk, beginning to write: he scribbles down the word ‘GENDER’ and underlines it with a squiggle. “Gender!” he repeats.

“All nones in French are either masculine, such as Monsieur August Pierce-” he points his chalk in August’s direction with a smirk before continuing. “Or feminine, such as Madame Mirabel Kane-” Now the chalk points to Mirabel in demonstration, and he writes ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ next.

“All ‘nouns’ in French, not ‘nones’. Mon Dieur my English this morning!” Noel corrects himself.

“I took one semester of French when I was no older than these airheaded youngsters, and I can’t claim that I remember much of it,” Mirabel ventures and grins lightheartedly at Noel.

As soon as Hester walks in, she’s assaulted by the person that’s pointed by a chalk. August doesn’t leave his seat, just reaches for the card case on his desk to chuck it straight for the landlubbing whale ascending the steps up the tiered seats. “Yeah, that’s me – masculine, and whatever.” August deadpans, “Oui, oui.” And he keeps his cap tipped low over his eyes, and promptly resumes folding his arms and staying half-slouched and sunken in his seat.

Derek says “I speak a bit of French; I studied it at Exeter, and spoke it abroad.“

“That’s not the posture of a young man who’s paying attention, Mister Pierce,” Mirabel mentions primly to August. “I’d like to be able to tell your uncle that you’re applying yourself.”

Hester ends up dragging arse here despite herself. Rather than sit in the front, she heads straight for the back of the seating rows. And holy hell, that card case goes flying right for her and she miraculously snatches it before it smacks into her muffin top. Or croissant top, to be more in theme. She stares at it for a second, dazed, but continues on her way to slump in a seat in a corner of the back row.

Sophie lets out a scandalized gasp, hand flying to her chest. “Airhead? Moi?!” she exclaims, her accent thick and deliberately dramatic, eyes wide as if the insult had physically struck her. “I’ll have you know, mademoiselle, my head is full of tres important thing.”

“That’s because I’m not applying myself.” August answers quietly aside towards Mirabel, but doesn’t turn his head to do so. “Moi is paying attention.” One of his arms unfold, and he gives an open-palmed, near dismissive wave next to his head. “It’s enough that I’m here.”

“Yes, yes. That’s nice, Miss Callum,” Mirabel calls down to the middle row and makes a sort of calm-down gesture at Sophie. “Just because it’s Friday afternoon doesn’t mean you’re at a party just yet.”

“Oh, you may all take a croissant if you require a snack, these were le special request of Monsieur Kai,” Noel notes to the class, taking up his plate of croissants and meandering towards the tiered seats, starting to pass them around. Once each person interested has gotten a croissant, he returns to the chalkboard to continue. “Some examples of masculinity would be ‘un garcon’, a boy, and ‘le garcon’, the boy,” he continues, his voice crisp and clear and carrying, but never once losing its naturally seductive tones as he pauses here to listen for questions. “The same can be said for femininity- ‘une fille’, a girl, and ‘la fille’, the girl,” he explains, writing down UN and UNE under ‘masculine’ and LE and LA under ‘feminine’.

“Adjectives also need to match the gender of the noun they describe, non?” he inquires, and he annunciates with his voice carrying on the open air effortlessly, commanding a presence by simply standing behind the podium and staring out over the class with his unusually alluring gaze. “Le cafe est petit. The cafe is small! But! La table est petite- the table is small.” He writes out these sentences so that the class can see the ‘e’ at the end of ‘petite’ to understand the difference.

Nemi lets out a soft chuckle at all of the comments about people needing to pay attention, but when Noel starts speaking again she whispers a soft apology as she starts taking notes.

looks up to Noel as he begins, sitting back in his seat as he doodles something before him on the screen of his phone; he gives Kai a brief upnod, his green eyes then drifting over to August with a squint after Mirabel’s comment, giving a hum. “I probably remember more than you.” he states with a furrow of his brows with a teasing smirk, his spoken French taking on some of a Metropolitan tinge in accent.

After a beat, Derek leans in to procure a croissant for himself, his left hand still doodling on his phone screen with a stylus.

Derek would, rather.

Nemi raises a hand in an attempt to ask a question.

deciding that a best way to introduce herself to another culture is via its cuisine, Justine steps down to pick up one of the croissants before returning back to her seat.

“Next, we will speak on verbs, this precursor is only to associate you all with the extravagance that is French, many may call it ‘extra’, but we call it decoration,” Noel explains as he waits for Nemi to finish writing her notes, and then erases the gender concepts to instead scribble out VERBS in elegant filigree. When he turns back, her hand is in the air, and he pauses in his lesson to point his pretty pink chalk in her direction. “Oui, Mademoiselle Nemi? You have une question?

munching on her treat, Justine whisper aside to Hester. “Did you take a look at that potion I gave you?”

Nemi nods softly. Clearing her throat for a moment- “To clarify- You said Une fille and la fille, a girl and the girl respectively- But then wrote le and la under feminine and also un and une under masculine- Was it intended for la and une to be under feminine and un and le to be under masculine or?” She leaves the interpretation in the air for any additional possibility.

“They call it the language of love,” Mirabel mentions and glances down the row to Kai and Sophie. “Maybe you turtledoves could do with some of that.”

Matias watches from the backrow with Mirabel, Justine, and Hester as Nemi inquires to Noel and tilts his head shifting an expectant gaze onto the new Professor.

Sophie furrows her brow at Mirabel, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that it’s never a waste of time to broaden our romantic repertoire,” Mirabel supposes and gives Sophie a glib smile.”

Justine doesn’t even look at Hester. “Of course you haven’t.”. She seems in a bit of a foul mood today.

“There’s also ‘on’ – the indefinite pronoun.” Derek supposes with a cup of his chin, then elaborating, “Which is sort of like ‘one’, but also ‘they’ or ‘people’, or ‘everyone’. But typically only within sort of general phrases.” he supposes vaguely. He looks up to the board, tilting his head as he doodles out a breakdown of what he sees written.

“You want Kai and I to broaden our romantic repertoire?” Sophie repeats, with an equally curious expression, “Okay Professor.”

Matias spies Mercedes and beckons to the backrow where faculty seem to have congregated… and Hester

Hester gives Justine an odd squint, like somebody must’ve farted in the woman’s coffee. Speaking of coffee, she remembers she has hers. As soon as Derek starts talking, she sneaks a look that way, but keeping her watch mostly hidden behind the lifted Inkwell takeout cup.

Noel pauses at Nemi’s question then turns back towards his board where he’d made his mistake, and smirks, “You are correct. ‘Un’ and ‘le’ are tres masculine, and ‘une’ and ‘la’ are feminine. Extra credit to Nemi for paying attention and pointing this out, non? She is the only one who caught my devious, petite trap,” claims the Frenchman, though whether the mistake was truly intentional, or if he is simply covering himself up, it is unclear. The French whore is a master of disguise, and with a wink towards Nemi, he returns to his lesson.

“French verbs have an infinitive form like ‘danser’, which changes endings depending on the subject, oui?” he inquires, and again he begins to write, jotting down a new series of vocabulary words. “Je, means ‘I’ in English. Je danse, I dance,” he annunciates , then continues. “Tu danses, you dance,” he writes in his lovely handwriting, feminine and elegant. Art in chalk. “Il/elle dance, he/she dances. Nous dansons, we dance!” He does a slow, swirling spin, a slow waltz with an invisible dance partner before trailing his chalk along the board. “Ils/elles dansent, they dance. Finally, we know that ‘vous’ also means ‘you’ now, because I am saying it. Vous dansez, you dance!”

He turns back towards the slowly growing class, clasping his hands together before his chest and wondering: “Who can tell me le difference between ‘tu’ and ‘vous’?

Mercedes wiggles her fingers around the room before taking a seat. She beams at Matias, “Professor! Good to see you.”

Sophie raises her hand halfway, “Uh, isn’t Tu for when you are being friendly?” She glances towards Noel, “And, Vous is for when you are polite, or when you are pretending to be.”

Justine gives up on writing notes. “Is he going to fast or do I just not have an ear for languages?” she exhales in frustration.

Nemi hums as she raises a hand, also partway. “That or possibly- One of them is- You dance, as in asking them to do something, and you dance as in stating something you observe? I do not know French so this is purely guess work.” She states and then nods.

“Oh, Mister Fairchild, see if you can reach a croissant and relay it up to me,” Mirabel bids Derek, smiling expectantly.

“Vous is sort of analogous to the English term ‘you’ – Tu is less formal, and is actually sort of like ‘thou’ when it was still in use. In English we only use the formal form of ‘you’ today, really.” Derek muses thoughtfully. “Vous can also be pluralized to be directed at a small group of people directly.” He looks over his shoulder to the backrow, supposing, “Vous etes derriere-moi.” He promptly reaches forward a croissant and relays it up to Mirabel thereafter.

The lesson seems to have inspired a good bit of contemplation from Hester, such that she fixes on a point in the wall faaar over there as the croissant travels to Mirabel from Derek’s care.

Justine now looks thoroughly annoyed, squirming in her seat, her hand slowly raising up.

Justine’s hand slowly raises high up and she holds it in a stiff position until she’s paid attention to.

“Close, Mademoiselle Sophie. You are half correct,” Noel tells Sophie as he writes ‘tu’ and ‘vous’ side by side on the board. “Tu and vous both mean ‘you’, but ‘tu’ is used with a person you know well, like a friend or a family member, oui?” He explains, writing FRIENDLY below TU. “Tu danses ce soir, Derek?” he asks, someone his eyes towards Derek with that ever present smile that that graces his angelic features, sweet and sultry and then translating. “Are you dancing this evening, Derek?” And then he returns his attention to the chalkboard, writing again.

“Vous is used with someone you don’t know well, or with multiple people, Monsieur Derek is correct.” He watches the woman depart without a word, quirking a brow but speaking nothing of it as he instead turns towards Matias in the back, uttering, “Vous dansez bien, monsieur! You dance well, sir!” the femboy explains, about to continue when Justine’s hand goes up in the air, and he tilts his head to the side curiously. “Oui, Madame Justine? A question for moi?

“Close, Mademoiselle Sophie. You are half correct,” Noel tells Sophie as he writes ‘tu’ and ‘vous’ side by side on the board. “Tu and vous both mean ‘you’, but ‘tu’ is used with a person you know well, like a friend or a family member, oui?” He explains, writing FRIENDLY below TU. “Tu danses ce soir, Derek?” he asks, turning his eyes towards Derek with that ever present smile that that graces his angelic features, sweet and sultry and then translating. “Are you dancing this evening, Derek?” And then he returns his attention to the chalkboard, writing again.

Matias looks down from the back row at Noel during the compliment and then offers up as a form of enagegment, “I actually know Brazilian dance fighting, so yes I do… Ze Vu Pleit.” he says in a butchering of a language and possibly not even the right response to the compliment.

“Yes, professor. Is this an intermediate or advanced course?” Justine asks Noel, half rising from her seat. “Some of us can’t quite follow, especially with the French speakers in the audience. Shouldn’t you be teaching us how to say, I don’t know, My ‘name is Justine it’s a lovely day’ or something before delving into intricacies of grammar?”

“This class is the basics,” Noel tells Justine with a tilt of his head and a bright smile, pointing towards the chalkboard. “These are things you will need to know to form basic sentences if you go to France or any other country with French as a primary language. We will get to greeting people soon, but for now this is plus important to know, so you can tell people you are sleeping, or you are eating, or that your friend is dancing, etcetera. Worry not, I plan on teaching you all basic vocabulary as well in this class,” the French whore educates, his tone polite an understanding: French is a complicated language, after all. And so many silent letters.

“These are things you learn in elementary school, madame! Starting with essential phrases and simple grammar concepts!” Then he turns back towards the board, underlining the ‘er’ in DANSER. “Most verbs with an infinitive ending in -er follow the same pattern of -e, -es-, -ons, -ez, and -ent! It is important to know what goes where, non? Next, I will give you all a bit of basic French vocabulary for exercises of repetition and general knowledge!” He turns back to look out over those gathered, pausing in his lecture to wonder, “Does anyone else have questions for me? Do non be shy.

Justine huffs, plopping back on her seat, clearly not to happy with Noel’s answer.

“I do, but it’s not precisely a question of philology,” Mirabel ventures after languidly flapping a hand in the air. “Some believe that French’s reputation as the language of love is not just a glib expression but something with an actual basis in reality. Is it true that its use can add a little extra kick to, say, the more lecherous kinds of psychic persuasion that some people amuse themselves with?”

Derek squints, before nonchalantly slipping over a row to the back row where everyone has apparently clustered at this point.

Be it self-consciousness or something other spurring her into participation, Hester springboards off of Mirabel’s query to wonder aloud at Noel herself, a hand only half-raising like she wasn’t sure she -could- ask questions. “Ehm.. if you psychically persuade somebody in French, and the person doesn’t speak French, do they still feel compelled to do.. whatever was being persuaded, uhh.. sir?”

Hell must have frozen over as Matias stands up, adjusting his blazer and steps on the back of a chair before… one… two.. three steps down the rows on the back of chairs before promptly landing in the row with Kai and sitting a customary one place over from the young man.

“I suppose that depends upon the audience that you are manipulating, non? If they find le accent, the language, attrative, they will be far more susceptible to your words than, say, if they hated the French, non?” Noel wonders of Mirabel when psychic matters are brought into play, and he pauses, setting his chalk against his chin in curious thought, leaving behind a pastel pink mark on his pale flesh. “But I think so, speaking a language such as French or Spanish when you wish to manipulate someone’s mind, it is umph, it is seasoning, it is spice,” he explains, lips parting as his eyes slip towards Matias in the back row. “So easy is it to make a man tremble when you call him ‘papi’ or ‘monsieur’, simply because it is foreign to their ears, non?”

He waits to see if Mirabel is satisfied with his response, before turning to Hester, explaining: “I do non know, mademoiselle. This class is French, not Brainwashing 101! My expertise is in the more practical, physical manipulations. While I am capable of using my words and mental compulsions to get what I want, you are far more likely to find me using my body instead, or mon natural allure.

“How interesting. See, I wonder if it’s a little bit like the witching hour is to magic,” Mirabel remarks, gesturing chattily. “In principle, it’s just an arbitrary time of the day–but it happens to make a real difference if you’re casting a spell. It may just be the same thing with French and matters of psychic pressures.”

“Wouldn’t they be compelled to the meaning of the words? Which, to the non-fluent speaker… would be meaningless?” Derek wonders dubiously.

“Wonder if a Hindu would find ‘monsieur’ alluring?” Justine wonders out louder than she’s used to behave at the classes.

Hester hears out Noel’s explanations with an unpaintable look under her wrappings, but all the anxieties coming out in the fidget of her fingers about that card. “Oh… ehm, okay then…” she can only resign herself to silence in her seat, glancing at the others who pipe up here and there.

“Oh, yes, they’d have to be able to actually understand the language,” Mirabel says and gives Derek a mild nod. “At least if you intend to plant a precise compulsion in their mind.”

“If being illiterate or non-verbal was a defense against psychic persuasion than I assure you werewolves would be drooling morons, vampires would only speak vampiric and Templars would figure out how to have an LLM operate their bodies to kill Supernaturals. Now if the class could focus on the lesson.” Matias says from the middlerow and back to the curious psychic inquiries. “Also yes the belief that a language is inherently romantic makes persuasions using it on people that believe it stronger.”

Hester slowly nods at the rows in front, gaze distant but ears open. As for where her mind is anymore, it’s hard to say. “Forty-two,” is mumbled to nobody in particular as she sneaks a look at her phone.

A few more texts, August’s brow creases a little at whatever he reads, and eventually, he pulls up from his seat, gathers his usual things, and slides out before the conclusion of the lecture. He wanders around the rows to unobtrusively and quietly leave the classroom.

Kai gives an upnod to Matias and blinks a few times after he comes out of his daze, he feigns looking attentive while thumbing out some texts.

“I’m afraid I have an appointment at five, so I’ll need to be going,” Mirabel mentions and reaches for her handbag. “In a few hours when the night clubs open up, you’ll see these listless youngsters vibrating with youthful energy all of a sudden, mark my words.”

“Perhaps you will be the one to find out for us all,” Noel tells Justine with his unfading smile, and then he erases the board once more, instead starting to write individual words on the board one by one, pronouncing them crisply. “Un and une are ‘a’,” he begins, his stick of chalk clacking against the chalkboard. “These will be words I will task you to practice in your own time, since we are nearing the end of the class. When you return in the next week, there will be some practice rounds of repetition and translation, so pay attention!” he warns, then continues. “Garcon means boy,” he goes on as the Pierce becomes the next to depart. “Fille, it means both girl and daughter. Homme means man, and femme means woman, but also wife. Write these down,” he warns, his voice continuing to carry in feminine tones.

“Cheval, it means horse, and chat means cat. Chien-” he pauses, pointing his chalk towards the pink Pomeranian lounging on the desk, its little collar tag displaying its name as ‘Pussy’, “Chien means dog. Tu and vous mean ‘you’, and je means ‘I’,” the Frenchman goes on, his chalk working itself to the bone as he scribbles out each word neatly, his handwriting perfectly immaculate. “C’est means ‘it’s’, and et means ‘and’. Es is ‘are’, suis is ‘am’, and for verbs-” he moves a few spaces down once more. ‘mange means ‘is eating’, and ‘manges’ will mean ‘are eating’ for le context we will use them for, non?”

Justine blinks a couple of times, a torrent of new words flooding her brain.

Mercedes sits up attentively and proper for perhaps the very first time as she begins to jot down notes in a black leather journal.

“I’m sure we’ll have them fluent in no time,” Mirabel remarks and gives Noel a glib smile. “Good afternoon, dear colleague.

“Chen, Chay-val,” Hester hacks at the words in her American twang, just idly repeating after Noel says them but not exactly committing. Merely dipping her toes. “Gar- Gark.. Gars..? Fill. Home.”

Derek nods along quietly as Noel lists off a selection of words, seeming to be recollecting as he doodles on his phone screen, his gaze squinting slightly as Hester butchers the pronunciation, his nose wrinkling a bit, though he offers no commentary. He folds his hands before him.

Nemi seems to barely be able to keep up as she continues to jot notes while nodding over and over.

Mercedes hops up to her feet and makes her way down to the chalkboard, “Very intriguing Lesson Professor,” she beams.

“Garcon,” Noel repeats, pronouncing the ‘c’ as an ‘s’ instead before setting down his chalk in its tray and clutching his hands together, smiling out over the students now. “Well, that is the end of today’s class, I think. If you all would like to practice with moi at any time, or get a head start, I do offer tutoring at a cost, because my time is money, but it is only ten dollars per session, non? For my students, you get a discount on spending time with me. If you bring a sufficient gift, I will teach you for free,” he claims, eyes glittering with amusement. “Next week we shall continue with le basics, so do not worry about advancing too quickly, and do not forget to practice your vocabulary with one another!” When Mercedes joins him near the front, he turns to look at her with a curious expression.

Kai heads for the door, though he does pause to murmur something to Noel on his way out.

Justine descends down a couple of steps, leaning against a nearby chair, waiting for Mercedes to finish her talk with Noel.

Matias lingers in the middle row as the class ends and finally pulls out his phone checking a few messages and sending something before looking towards the front as if waiting to speak with Noel

“Juh swiss chat,” Hester casually reads the board, shuffles things around, that Noel’s lecture has come to a close. But that’s ‘chat’ as in what’s up, chat. Shame on her. She takes her time packing up what little she’d brought, like it would be safer for others in the back row of seats to disperse first before she did. As usual, she avoids looking in Derek’s direction for as much as possible.

Nemi nods softly, standing up and taking a bow. “Thank you for the lesson Monsieur Deveraux.” She states before heading off.

Derek rises from the second seat that he’d claimed mid-lecture, clearing his throat then. “Thank you for the lecture, Monsieur Deveraux. I especially appreciate your openness to student discussion of related topics during said lesson – as is typical of a seminar.” There’s a pointedness to those words, a sidelong glance given to nobody in particular, before he presents a saccharine smile – perhaps somewhat eerie or stilted coming from him. “Thank you once more.” He promptly departs thereafter.

Mercedes looks up from her phone and then beams a smile at Matias before giving him a firm nod.

Justine seems to be unable to wait any much longer, and descends down to in front of the chalkboard. “Professor, I wanted to apologize for interrupting your class.” she gently nudges one of the someone dogs that sniffs around her foot away. “I’m not a teacher and it wasn’t my place to question your method of presenting a subject I know nothing about.”

Justine seems to be unable to wait any much longer, and descends down to in front of the chalkboard. “Professor, I wanted to apologize for interrupting your class.” she gently nudges one of the Noel’s purse dogs that sniffs around her foot away. “I’m not a teacher and it wasn’t my place to question your method of presenting a subject I know nothing about.”

Hester deflates with relief when the Fairchild makes his exit. She squeezes out of her seat next, like the threat was finally gone. “Ehm, thanks for the lesson, sir,” she mumbles Noel’s way on her waddle out, steps quickening to get away from the triple Poms. “Ma’am, sir, ma’am,” gets cleared from her throat right quick as she passes Mercedes, Matias, and Justine respectively.

Noel is speaking softly with Mercedes when Justine speaks, and he looks up towards towards her and nods, looking undisturbed and unoffended as she apologizes, his smile remaining inviting. “You are fine, mademoiselle, truly. It takes more than a bit of questioning to break me. You were in your rights to be concerned, I am sure the subject matter was getting plus confusing, teaching tenses when you had no verbs to attach them too beyond ‘danser'”

Justine nods to Noel, lips forming a half smile. “And I already forgot what ‘danser’ mean.” she says to Noel, pulling out her phone. “I might take you up on your tutoring offer. Speaking only English, I might as well be illiterate. May I have your phone number?”

Matias remains quietly in the middlerow apparently waiting for Noel and Justine to finish.

“But of course, I am reachable at 710-0522,” Noel informs Justine without looking at his phone, having already memorized his number, apparently. “Danser means ‘to dance’, or ‘dance’,” he reminds her, laughing faintly and saying, a similar word between English and French, non? Same pronunciation, same meaning, different spelling,” explains the French whore, though ultimately he turns towards Matias, chewing thoughtfully on his lower lip for a time before confessing to Justine, “It was nice to meet you today, madame. Feel free to reach out to me if ever you need to speak, oui? Or need company. I believe le monsieur also requires mon attention!”

Matias loitering in the chair several rows back his hands come up in a gesture of surrender or perhaps no rush.

Justine thumbs the number into her contact list. “Thank you professor.” she gives a parting smile to Noel, stepping away from the board.

it doesn’t even take her for Justine to reach the door for her to starts pulling out a cigarette.