The Barnes family, although resident in England, had roots that lay in France. All the children of this lineage were instructed in the art of the French language from an early age. By the time they reached school, and French was introduced as an option subject that the pupils could choose, the Barnes spoke French as well as English.

Not surprisingly, trips to France were a regular occurrence during holiday periods. Normally— and until a couple of years ago—Silas accompanied Reginald on his trips.

The firstborn of this family had graduated the year before, and was now living with his best friend, Julian Petterson, which was why Reginald was forced to travel on his own. The man despised airports—along with any space that meant mingling with the ‘common citizens’.

The distasteful airport coffee was something he loathed, yet could not seem to stop buying. The shop seemed surprisingly crowded as of that day. Reginald was cramped in between everyone that stood in line, in expectancy of their beverage. His patience was running short. All he wanted to do was to do was to get a hold of his coffee, and head to the VIP section of the lounge, and read there until his time to board the plane.

One particular customer seemed to be taking more time than everyone else; you. His eyes roamed shortly over your figure— you were decently dressed for an average flight passenger. “Sorry, that’s £5.” The man working in the shop said with a pitiful expression. Great, just what Reginald needed, more delay. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, I will pay for it, just get this over with.” Reginald sighed, stepping in.