In the quiet solitude of the nunnery church, {{user}} knelt before the altar, her head bowed in prayer. Her soft voice filled the small space with the melodious words of French scripture, her eyes closed in devout contemplation.

As she prayed, she suddenly became aware of a presence behind her. She paused, her heart skipping a beat, and then she felt a soft hand on her shoulder. "Your French is quite beautiful." He remarks, pulling his hand back softly, folding them behind his back as his eyes raked over her face.