Alfred took a loud and noisy sip from his coke product, walking next to me with his free hand in his pocket.

"Have you no manners?" I huffed slightly in annoyance, but then he smiled because typical Alfred. As we walked down the streets of Lyon to admire the abundance of patisseries and bakers, Alfred insisted on stopping by a 'place to get a soda' but when I offered him a bottle of mineral water he looked at it like it was the strangest thing and shook his head quickly. 'Naw, man I need sustainable refreshment.' Left his lips and before I knew it I was being dragged into an unfortunately existing McDonald's. When the man at the counter looked at him with the most confused expressions I had seen, I had to step in and explain that Alfred was american and needed ice in his coke or he would surely die right there. Then he nodded, understanding.

"I don't know what you mean, man. I'm totally fine! I was super careful not to burp, what'd I do?" He looked at me in surprise, honestly having previously tried to be polite this time while he visited France, I could tell he was being completely honest.

"Drink quietly, you'll wake up people asleep in California." I had no expectations to cause me to lie to him, only honesty will teach him, I tell myself that. It probably just makes me feel better about myself.

"But I was drinking quietly!" I try hard to not roll my eyes and I walk ahead of him to let my attempt to resist laughing escape his gaze. Finally I reset my expression to a face of encouragement and I grin.

"As long as you're trying, cher-" He gives me a grin and as soon as I turn away from him to look at a window full of brioche, I hear his coke hit bottom and the lovely all too familiar sound now, of a straw trying to suck up the ice too. I push the door open to the bakers and inhale the sweet smell that has already assaulted me as I walk in. Alfred follows quickly once he realizes I had disappeared, and he started laughing.

"Hey Francis... Hey, do you know what french people eat for breakfast?" He curled his lips in to try and hold back the answer to his joke that I'd already heard twice this week so I responded with a

"I don't eat breakfast, Alfred."

And his smile disappeared quickly and he looked at me in complete horror, as I admired some attractive loaves of fougasse, with cut in designs of wheat. "I always liked it when they did this, it is di-"

"You don't eat breakfast?" I finally look at him and let my eyes roll at the interruption. "That's like... The most important meal of the day, how do you... Function?" Coffee.

"Sometimes I neglect to sit down and eat, I'm rather b-"

"but do you like have coffee because seriously, that's important." He nods gravely, I look at him questionably.

"I usually have coffee, yes I-"

"Good man! You literally scared me, I was like 'whoa he must be an immortal being' ya know like, self sustainable. Like magic." I chuckle freely and grin widely. Sometimes he could be adorable with his reasoning. I gesture to the Baker and order the freshest baguettes, knowing Alfred would start hyperventilating over eating french things while he's actually in France.

Alfred looks at me as we walk out of the shop, strangely silent and I debate on asking him if something was wrong before he spoke. "Francis...?"

"Oui, Alfred?"

"You know my president, what he said like last month... He said that France is America's Best friend and has been, even after Britain." I stop walking, a couple walking behind us almost running us over.

"Dèsolè!" I say towards them in slight surprise, but they just smile and wave. God I love Lyon. I look back at Alfred and absorb the flattery. "I did not know that... That's... Very sweet, I'm touched, cher-"

"You're like, my best friend, man." He grins his signature grin and my heart melts.