"Ouch," he put a hand on his chest and frowned. "Are you trying to say my humor isn't the best you've ever heard?"
"That's precisely what she's trying to say, Jean-Louis," a hand placed a cup and a plate in front of him. I followed the hand up to the face. A slender woman not older than twenty-three smiled back at me. Her cheekbones were insane, my jealousy was eating me up. "Hi, I'm Claudette. Sorry for my boyfriend, he's a bit much sometimes."
"Isabella. I noticed," Jean-Louis grinned at me briefly.
"You're not from the area, are you?" Claudette eyed me carefully. "Are you from Paris?"
"No, I'm from Orleans but I have been living abroad for most of my life."
"Ah, that explains it. Your accent is very.. how you say.. foreign. Where did you live last?"
