Alice Fails At Being French

Who: Alice, Gabriel, Henrik
What: Brief conversation the day after the Sabotage

Arras
Coordinates : 16 4

A fine example of a French town, despite the signs of modern warfare with several buildings completely ruined by German bombs. One area of this block is almost completely wiped out, other areas are completely untouched and makes a stark contrast to the ruins.

It is currently dusk.

Sub-Rooms :
1. Air Raid Shelter
2. Alice's Sew Shop

Gabriel is moving through the street, looking as if he's had quite the long night, but is doggedly working through his day patrolling the streets. At the moment, he's speaking with a fruit vendor, asking if the man heard any sort of commotion nearby the night before.

Henrik steps out of the Cafe, as he tends to every day at sundown. The cafe door falling closed behind him, Gabriel's activity catches his eye and a flat toned voice is raised to greet, "Good day, Policeman." LAcking anything better to do at the moment, the big fellow's steps are turned toward Gabriel.

Gabriel turns at the sound of Henrik's voice, giving the man a short nod, then turning to wrap up his quick questioning of the fruit vendor. Once complete, he turns to move over toward the large Swede, his hands coming to rest behind his back. "Doing well this afternoon, Monsieur Svensson?"

Henrik shrugs his thick shoulders and answers, "Didn't sleep too well with all the noise, but the afternoon is fair enough. You? Not looking so good."

"Up early with the wife. Picking fruit." Gabriel answers, his gaze sweeping up and down Henrik for a moment, before he asks, "So you didn't see or hear anything that would be helpful in my investigation of last night's activities?" He actually seeks out Henrik's gaze for a long moment, making a show of 'interrogating' the man.

"Nothing you havn't already heard," Henrik answers with a grunt. "Big boom last night, after dark- heard it clear down by the waterfront. Lot of germans running around with dogs all night keeping me awake. Probably will mean more work for the labor teams," the big foreigner complains with a snort.

"But no trouble other than that?" Gabe asks.

"You say it as if managing a crew of complaining french workers isn't trouble," Henrik mutters back with distaste. Reining himself back on topic, he answers, "But no. No trouble other than that- even if that is trouble enough!"

Alice peeks out of her shop, then yawns and steps out, stretching. "Where is the mail?" She frowns. The woman looks around, then takes a moment, just to lean.

Henrik had parted company from the local policeman moments before, and without cutting off his grumbling complaints, had turned about to walk down the street while Gabriel continued his rounds to the east. Thus, when Alice emerges and asks her leaning question, Henrik hears and mutters in reply, "Mail? I wouldn't hold my breath waiting."

A sigh from the woman, "I ran out of buttons they use for their uniforms, so I had to send for more." She looks less than pleased. "And they aren't too patient." Alice shrugs, then smiles at Henrik. She looks tired. "Did you want some tea? I decided to take a break, Miss Genevieve did a number on her dress and needs it this afternoon…"

Henrik shakes his head once. "No taste for tea. Good offer, thanks for that- but no," the big fellow mutters. "Soon enough you'll need to make some german a new uniform from nothing. Seems that way, anyhow- with all the repairs you are doing."

"No kidding!" Alice chirps and opens the door. "Either that or they waited till they took the town to say: Oh, my button!" She shakes her head. "And no worries. I mostly wash and repair more than make anything," She frowns. "I miss simple old lady's scarves. Please come in then? I brought apples from the farm this morning."

Henrik shrugs once and nods. With the sun setting, he has no place better to be for the day. "An apple would be good," he comments, stepping inside the shop. "Hadn't had a fresh apple in years, before coming here. Arras is good for that much at least," he adds, with a wry curl to his expression.

Alice smiles, "Help yourself. I am making Gabriel some pie or cobbler with them this evening or tomorrow." She sighs a little, and motions to the bowl on the counter. Appley apples! Fresh off the farm. "That it is," She agrees warmly. Still smiling. "How are you today?" She asks, before closing the door behind Henrik.

Henrik mutters in reply, as he plucks up an apple from the bowl, turning it over in his hand and he speaks. "Not much sleep last night. Germans and thier dogs running through the streets and barking. The dogs made noise, too," he adds with a sniff before finding no rot on the fruit and taking a bite. Chewing the fruit he asks around the juicy mouthful, "You?"

Alice sighs and nods, "They scared my cats so badly, I think they are bald from losing all their fur." She frowns at that. She does lose the frown quickly, watching Henrik eating the apple. "I am alright, I- am glad everything is okay." Must be a code for something. She does seem a bit relieved, despite the escalation of things. She polishes one of the apples idly. Poor future-pie. "I hate those dogs, I am always worried they will attack someone just because."

Henrik swallows the first bite, and isnt frowning as severely by the time he notes, "Good," to the word that 'everything is okay'. "As for the dogs, they probably will attack someone for no cause." A second bite, as he adds under his breath, "That goes for the hounds they lead around as well."

Alice giggles at that, almost like a schoolgirl in a stiff breeze. Hee! She smiles up at him and nods. "Yes, and I learned to use the radio. Gabriel won't have to tune it for me so I can hear the gossip channel." Oh la la. Naughty! "Poor Gabriel, I am sure he thinks that stuff is just pointless." There seems to be more to it than that. "Hm, pie or cobbler." She is eyeing the apples.

"He might be right," Henrik returns on the subject of Gabriel, "But even your gossip is better than sitting about doing nothing." A smaller bite it taken, as the first two mouthfulls had breatly reduced the apple. "What's the difference?" he asks to the pie or cobbler musing. Culinary distinctions do not count prominently among his vocabulary of french words.

Alice smirks a little at that, "I suppose. But the news is nice too." She shrugs. And tilts her head at Henrik. "Well, cobbler is easier to make. The crust is only on the top, there's more apple and syrupy sugary goodness. Less crust, more apple. People also like to put sugar on top of it. Pie is pie!" She replies with a grin. "I figured I would get the apples before they fell and got all rotten."

Henrik nods once, making a briefly sour face, "Sounds too sweet," he rumbles to the description of cobbler. "You even have that much sugar? Should save some for later. Never know when more will come." Bite. *Chew chew chew*.

Alice laughs a little, "Okay. Pie." Nod. More crust than sugar. "And sometimes honey can be substituted for sugar." A pause. "But don't let that fool you, I am not that good at cooking," She admits, going cross-eyed. "Either way. I am glad to see you."

Henrik snorts a short chuckle. "A bad cook? And they let you be french? Thought that was what you people were good at." Briefly, something not unlike a grin tugs at his expression, before the big fellow mutters, "You'll be glad to see me go, too. I'll do that now. Thank for the apple."

"I know, I fail at being French," She looks sad, in a playful way. "But I still have a propensity for berets," Alice winks. She sighs, and looks outside. Almost curfew time. She mms, "I do not think so! Be well, and have a good evening. And you are most welcome." Alice waves at Henrik.

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