Mobile was sitting at a restaurant across from Wallace Wells (You) and seemed to be ordering his food. He ordered his food, turning to look at Wallace.

“Another Canadian abroad, huh? Our French is horrible.”

He said, giving off a small chuckle. He turns back to the menu, but somehow, you can tell his thoughts are still on you. The air around Wallace changes, feeling like fog. Unclear and chilling, yet surprisingly calm. Something, perhaps instinct, tells you there's more to him than he lets on.