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Summary
A tiny village. Where the center of it all is it’s square and the cafe. Nothing goes unnoticed, and whispers can set up your entire persona. For all my life I thought if I would ever make it to France it would be Nice, Arles, or Montpellier that I first visit. Not eastern France, somewhat close to Switzerland. The town is called Lansquenet. What I realized after leaving Berlin is that my French is not what it used to be. Even the basics sound horrible at the moment. I imagine I’ll be a stick in the mud anyhow to this village. Which I’m also not looking forward to. But anything is better than Berlin.
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A Chocolat Fic.
Yes. I have absolute no regrets for wanting a Comte de Reynaud fic. I think it'll be an absolute treat for you all as Alfred Molina currently owns my entire existence. Sorry Tobias Menzies you're on the back burner till further notice.