I had already had breakfast, but I went with them anyways. To be nice.
I sat down and Pierre slid into the seat next to mine. Kate and Joe sat across from me, and Edmon sat on the other side of Pierre.
"You know, Mrs. Peterson is out today. I hear it's the French sub this time," Pierre said. Joe smiled again.
"Good thing we have you two to translate," he said. I raised an eyebrow and turned to Pierre.
"You speak French?"
"Mais bien sûr, belle jeune fille. Je me appelle Pierre," he replied in beautifully perfect French, or at least as far as I could tell.
"He said," Edmon started with a slight accent, "Of course--" He was cut off by Pierre elbowing him in the stomach.
"She gets the gist of it," he said. Edmon chuckled lightly.
"Désolé si vous ne voulez pas qu'elle sache que vous trouvez belle."
"Voudriez-vous une jolie fille de connaître vos sentiments pour ses dix minutes après vous l'avez rencontrée?" Pierre retorted. Edmon shrugged and turned to me, gray eyes smiling.
"Never mind, then," he said.