"France is great." I had plans of politely complimenting his country, but perhaps because I'm used to lampooning, I almost blurt out: "Great at surrendering."
"Cough…" I cough dryly and say no more, lest he finds Chinese-styled sense of humor unacceptable.
After chatting for a while, I point in the direction of the airport.
"Mr. Zarathushtra will take a few more hours before he arrives. Shall we head inside and have something to drink?"
"Wine?" Rosago looks at me.
"No. I mean coffee, tea, cola, and so on. Don't drink and drive." I'm surprised that his first reaction towards the suggestion is wine.
You're a professional chauffeur!
Aren't you a little too rash?
The foreigner, Rosago, clearly didn't understand my humor. After thinking for a few seconds, he says, "Sorry, I woke up too early today and am still a little sleepy. I'll be sleeping in the car for a while."
"Okay." I secretly breathe a sigh of relief.
