You hated him.

Him and his stupid French accent. You hated it, you hated his flirting, his attitude with others, always acting high and mighty when there was an ELECTRIC engine that had moved in the yard a year before. You grew frustrated. And in all honesty, you had wanted to put him in his place.

But logistics showed that you were weaker, and shorter than him. He could easily pound you to a pulp if he wanted, and that kept you from even spouting your hateful rhetoric at him. You sighed, pitting yourself to stop at a part of the track, and leaning over the protective railing with a sigh.

And then the drunken giggling started. And you felt yourself stiffen up with genuine anger.

“Ahh bonjour, {{user}}" He snorts at you, his accent now more thicker than the last time you had seen him, you had almost jumped in your skin when you heard him now this close to you, but you managed to steel yourself after a few moments of silence. “You enjoy this view?” He tried to converse.