Paris is a city with which Lucius Malfoy is well acquainted. French was the second language (aside from English) that he'd learned. From a young age, Abraxas had toted his son along to appointments, meetings, and various engagements as an excuse to prolong his sons exposure to eloquence and grandeur of a Parisian lifestyle. A mere sidestep to both Italy, and Spain, where he also had interests and investments.
Anyone who knew the young man might not find it surprising that he'd been here now. May not even think it oddly suspicious that he'd been at the exact beach-side cafe that his future wife happened to frequent during time spent in the area. But there wasn't a single person (yet) who'd been privy to the fact that Lucius had been hiding out nearby. That every trip to grab his morning croissant, latte, and paper had been accompanied by probing glances; eyes seeking any object or silhouette that implied the presence of Cissa. The hotel he was staying at, The Peninsula, had all of the amenities he could ever need. Lucius certainly didn't have to fetch his own breakfast, petit fours, or step out for a visit to his masseuse.
But each time he'd left the premises, it increased the possibility that he'd see her. (What, you thought he'd pick up a phone and call? You all know better than that.)
It so happened that today he'd managed to haul himself out of bed before noon. Last night's 'guest' had been gone early, thanks in part to the very large tip Lucius had paid housekeeping to usher her out before he'd awaken. None of that would negate the fact that he was nursing a giant hangover, but the cool air rolling in off The Seine was kind, and it helped that his sunglasses were well beyond dark enough to combat the sun. Never one to ease away from being hyper-vigilant of his surroundings, the petite frame that danced in and out of his vision would remain far from unnoticed.
The delicate paper menu between his fingers soon served as a barrier between his line of sight and the rest of the cafe. He could hardly read the words scrawled across the page, the tinting on his sunglasses and his headache suddenly mixing like oil and water. He felt the air shift around him, and the sudden presence of the youngest Black sister made herself known by clearing her throat. In the grand scheme of things, this is what Lucius had wanted, but in the moment he'd felt both foolish and, frankly, a little nauseous.
Narcissa spoke, mocking him lightly as she often did. It didn't bother Lucius in the way that it used to. Her venom affected him differently than it did others. He oft found it to be less bitter than it was engaging. "Ah, Cissa." Finally releasing his grip on the menu, he lowered it from his face and looked up at her through dark glasses, "Fancy meeting you here."
Lucius rose from his seat (such a gentleman), gesturing for Cissa to sit, "What brings you to... Oh, yes. Beauxbatons, right? I'd almost forgotten."
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