She had a way of making herself at home there even if her presence is not entirely welcome though perhaps her wallet still was. Sentiment was something that Fleur tried to give no credit to and yet the smell of freshly baked goods takes her back home to France with one of the few enjoyable things that had marked her presence there. Smell was a powerful sense and triggered memories with ease, human or vampire alike. In one way, she’s an old soul: nothing is ever as good as home. Paris might not have actually been her home in the humans years of her life but no one could tell from the way that she acted.
“Mon chouchou, no need for despair. I promise I will not scare off your other customers.” Whether or not her promise was to be trusted, well, was quite difficult to say. It depended on her mood and that tended to be quite fickle more often than not. The only thing predictable about her mood was that it was unpredictable. A smile pulled across the curves of her lips, hands on the counter and leaning forward. “Tell me you missed me.”
@samsonfrisk
