Anything but a smile graced Arthur Kirkland's face that evening. The flight was a hassle, he was drenched in rain, his suitcases were becoming heavy, and he didn't even want to move to France in the first place! But the company he worked for said they'd lay him off unless he accepted the transfer. So really, he didn't have much of a choice. With the tight budget he was working off of, he was forced to be roommates with some man he'd never even met. Arthur couldn't quite remember his name, but he knew it was something absurdly French. Arthur knew what having a roommate was like, as he grew up with multiple brothers, but he wasn't very chipper about the idea of having to share a flat with some stranger. And though he hadn't even met the man yet, he knew he'd undoubtably end up hating him. But he also knew he'd have to live with it. If he wanted to live in a house that is.
Arthur had finally made it to the plain apartment building which his roommate had given him the address to. The streets of Paris were nothing like those of London. Everyone drove on the wrong side of the road, all those who walked had on strange fashions, which Arthur wasn't used to. It would indeed take a while to get used to all his new surroundings. He continued through the lobby and up the lift to the third floor. Third floor, room eighteen, Arthur reminded himself, standing at the door. He knocked twice, and waited, hearing a the sound of muffled words, and shuffling. The door then opened, exposing the Brit's new roommate. He had brilliant blonde hair, tied in a loose ponytail with a sort of blue ribbon. The colour of his hair matched that of his small beard, and his lashes. The man's clothes were fancy, the slightest bit fancier and stranger than those of the regular civilians walking the streets earlier. He had on a dark blue, almost navy jacket, which was a bit loose on his shoulders. Under that he had a white shirt, which had the first three buttons undone. That and some trousers and plain white socks. His outfit seemed a bit... Unusual. But what did Arthur know about fashion?/div
"Oui?" He asked.
Arthur stopped himself from staring, and held out his hand," Oh, hello. I'm Arthur Kirkland. Your new roommate." He knew he didn't sound all that enthusiastic, but who would after enduring the hell which was the airport.
"Bonjour Arthur! I'm Francis Bonnefoy," The Frenchman smiled, accepting Arthur's handshake. He was right. It was very French." Come in!"
Arthur did as his new roommate said, and entered the apartment. It wasn't all that much. A kitchen, living room, a couple of doors leading to rooms which he'd most likely learn of. Arthur dropped his suitcases, and turned to ask Francis where his room was, but the blonde seemed to have other plans.
"Excuse me, but I have a client. Youre room is through there," Francis said, pointing to a door opposite of a wall. He then entered one of the other rooms, presumably his own bedroom, and shut the door behind him.
Client? Arthur wondered. What exactly did his roommate do? But he was far too tired and aggravated from that entire day, that he couldn't care less what Francis did. Arthur picked his suitcases back up, and entered his room. Barely noticing the decor at all, he fell onto his bed, taking off his shoes before trying to will himself to sleep. But suddenly, strange sounds came from the other bedroom, ones he was glad were muffled through the multiple walls. He covered his ears, hoping that would help block out the sounds. It didn't. Bloody twit, Arthur thought, clenching his teeth. He was surely not in the mood to try and ignore Francis and whoever was with him, so he tried blocking them out. But sadly, not even headphones would make the flat silent enough for him to sleep. So he just laid there, hoping whatever 'business' Francis had, would be over soon. Hopefully all would be well the next day. What a nice welcome to France, indeed.
