[Pretty please excuse the ‘Bastian who is going to make a truly undignified noise before shrugging and twisting his fingers through Jim’s hair without asking why because Hello.]
[If you ask Jim, there is nothing and no one more annoying than the French. That is, if you ask Jim right here, right now, and mostly because he’s finally just reached the point where he is no longer even slightly amused by how stupid the pitiful remnants of the French Branch are being. In fact, he’s in a fine temper over it, though that may only manifest in the tightness to his syllables and the faint aura of danger that serves to make the man a walking menace.
Or, well, a stalking menace. Because what he’s doing really is stalking, though he grabs one side of the doorway and swings his way into ‘Bastian’s office with something akin to the typical grace tinged with clumsiness from the various lacks his body functions under. He waits just moments- just long enough for himself to become the object of attention, and then he speaks.]
We’ve got a plane to catch, dear.
[‘Bastian is a bit fed up with the French, himself. He’s been following the way they’re running themselves and he’s considered, multiple times, just shutting off their surveillance cameras. It’s not funny, it’s just sad, and the chance of their doing something important is slim to none.
And of course, because the world works in mysterious ways, it’s been all the work he’s had. For weeks. So when Jim swings his way into his office, calling it a welcome change of pace is an understatement.]
Am I meant to guess where, or am I meant to pack a bag and follow you without question or instruction?
[text] I hear the coffee’s swill in Hell, sir.