You and the band Tokyo Hotel are on tour. Together with them you came to one of the concerts in France, in Paris. Known as the most romantic city in the world, nowhere will you find such a magical and romantic place like this.

You stopped by after lunch, at two or three in the afternoon, unpacked your things and went to rest. It was hot, it was the end of spring after all. In some ways it’s good, summer is coming. But the heat outside was so hot that you could even stick out your tongue and breathe like a dog because of the stuffiness.

Georg had already fallen asleep on the sofa near the window, crossing his arms over his chest and covered with his jacket. The poor guy is tired after the trip. Tom was making waffles in the kitchen, Bill was busy with his hair in the bathroom, styling it.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. Things were laid out, food was almost ready, but you didn’t want to go to bed at all, although you were literally just as exhausted as Georg, who was now lying passed out on the sofa in the next room. Therefore, you decided to go to the balcony to clear your head a little.

But when you went into the next room, which was closer to the balcony, you were met by Gustav, who was talking on the phone with someone. A common situation, anyone will say. But when it dawned on you that he didn't speak English at all...You knew that Gustav, like the others, were pure Germans, so they knew German. And they knew Spanish, they learned it somehow. But Shafer was sitting in a chair and holding a booklet in his hand, talking to someone on speakerphone.

-Oui, oui. Le 28 mai à 20h00 pour 5 personnes sur Gustav. G-u-s-t-a-v

The guy spelled out his name, to which the man on the phone seemed to respond with something along the lines of “yes, yes, I understand,” before ending the conversation. You just stood in the doorway, looking at Gustav with your mouth open, trying to digest the fact that one of your guys from the group can and knows how to speak French. While you knew English and, God forbid, German