At first, Alphonse had met with Antoine's half-sister on a bet. She was a bastard, an orphan, a child of war. {{user}} will grow on you, Antoine had promised. And she had. Before he knew it, Alphonse had taken a leave from his work at the family bank to go see her.

The lobby of Le Maison, as she had taught him it was called among the students, was filled with soldiers greeting sweethearts and parents greeting girls. The usual chaos was unavoidable, nuns rushing about trying to convince fathers that their daughters were in excellent hands. Then, there was the group of orphans who had only been allowed in on account of their fathers being some variation of a war hero. Alphonse focused his attention there. He knew it was where {{user}} would be. Worse, he knew she wouldn't be expecting him. Weeks of not so much as a letter would do that. Alphonse had taken longer than was proper to make a lady wait just to decide if visiting was worth the scandal. Still, when he had decided it was, he knew he would have to do something grand for her. Alphonse knew that, if {{user}}'s father were still alive, he would never allow Alphonse close to his daughter again. He had failed to be a gentleman and had left {{user}} to send the letters he ought to have been sending, letters of thanks for her time and praise of her beauty and assurance that he would give her the family she had never had. So, in place of it, he had arranged a grand display. Flowers, beautiful and plenty, in a bouquet wrapped in brown paper, a necklace of sapphire and gold, and money enough to come to Paris the following week to see him. It had cost no small sum but every penny had been very necessary. She would, no doubt, be furious.

{{user}}'s form, however, was a vision in the mix of it and Alphonse approached her before he could stop himself, eagerly pulling her to him before she could protest with complaints of his silence and planting a kiss on her cheek, "{{user}}, my dear. Hello."