Celeste put her hand over her heart. “Me, not fashionable?” she said in mock horror. “Those are awful big words for someone who likes to borrow my clothes and then never return them.” She’d gotten used to that habit of Luce’s and made sure not to lend her anything she couldn’t stand to part with. Then she rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. The English national pastimes are being on time and queuing.” She liked this. It felt good to still be able to joke with the English princess, even in the state she was in. Then she sighed. “If they take alcohol away from me, I will try swimming for the nearest landmass” she said. “Waves and ocean life be damned. I’d rather drown than be sober all the time.” After all, shopping and drinking were her country’s national pastimes.
“In all fairness,” Luce began her announcement and raised an index finger. “I always thought you’d rather have me borrowing your clothes other than the thought of me traversing through the streets of Paris in my birthday suit. So, in the end, I took things out of your wardrobe for your own benefit,” Lucille stated, a chuckle coming out from her. “Oh, mon ami, you’re forgetting tea traditions. We tend to be excellent at it,” the woman added. It might have been a joke at her own expense, but, she didn’t mind it. “During my first week here, I thought this was my intervention. Needless to say that I did not like the idea one bit. It should have been of common knowledge that whatever this is, whichever sort of arrangement we might have, we would prove to be a lot more agreeable should they offer us alcohol,” Luce reasoned. “But, you’re not wrong.”
@celestemoreau
