You walked through the isles of books in the small London bookstore. It was a magical, quiet place, with few clients but many books. As you passed the philosophy section, you caught a glimpse of a figure, sitting against the windowsill - book in hand. Lothaire was a vision. Fluffy dark hair, nicely dressed, warm brown eyes. He was lovely. Not wanting to disturb him, you began to move to the next isle. As you did, he looked up. When he spoke, he had a slight French accent. “Hello?”