Cannot Divide By Zero [Open Commentlog]

[shipshapeshipco]

[A true gentleman is never neglectful of his form, oh no. He must keep himself spry. That was the reasoning behind Samuel's daily stroll- a chance to hone important skills such as cane-twirling, hat-tipping, door-opening, and even the occasional kerchief-wave is not a thing to waste

Comments

[Commentlog] I hope Samuel doesn't mind sharing the ball

[only_one_raoul]

[Being restricted to one set of rooms, even with the threat of death outside them, is unbearable. Raoul has worn out all forms of entertainment that he can think of, and he wants out. Besides, he has a natural talent for walking into death traps with no means of defending himself and usually walking out again.

He was trying to be careful and listening closely to the comms for warnings, but no one had mentioned a dandy with a ball and a bloody nose as a threat, so he naturally inquires.]

Êtes-vous bien?

oh he certainly won't!

[shipshapeshipco]

[Samuel pauses mid-stride. He blinks five times in quick succession.]

I speak French! Fairly good French, too; I've ordered more dainty pastries than one could shake a fork at, and my vowels are always spectacularly muddled. Care for a game?

[As proud as he clearly is, he doesn't bother to say that in any language other than English, nor does he take the time to respond to Raoul's question. He does have time to toss the ball, though. Better catch it!]

Excellent

[only_one_raoul]

[Why does Raoul even bother speaking French anymore? No one else seems to speak it, besides himself and Christine (and a certain other person who will not be named), but English is such a strange language-- oh my, it's a ball.

Raoul nearly fumbles it, but he soon has it safe and secure in his hands. Yes, the lovely red ball isn't going anywhere, because Raoul just adores the color red. By God, this other man has red on his face. They must become friends.]

Bonjour, Monsieur le Visage Rouge.

[English is a bit beyond Raoul's capabilities for the moment.]

[shipshapeshipco]

[Hey, who needs to share a language? They'll speak Ball. Samuel claps his hands invitingly.]

Shall we play Dribbler-toss? Jump-And-Juggle? Or have you a Gaul-game I've yet to try my hand at? Surely it makes good use of angst and butter, if it's truly a French passtime. Shall we find ourselves some butter? They certainly have some at Sergei's.

[Did someone mention something before about fearing restaurants? No, of course not. That's silly.]