He caught her daydreaming again.
Maka lay half curled on the couch, her gaze not quite focused on the TV screen. He wondered idly, partway amused, what she thought of those times her mind wandered.
"Hello?" he called out jokingly. "Earth to Maka."
She jumped at the sound of his voice, blushing slightly. "What do you want, Soul. I'm busy."
"Bet you're not," he smirked. "I bet you have no idea what this show is even about."
Her nose crinkled as she glared up at him. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course I know…"
Maka's attention focused on the TV for the first time. Apparently whatever show she was originally watching had ended, because the documentary that replaced it was entirely in French.
She continued to glare as Soul chuckled. "What do you care? For all you know I could speak perfectly fluent French. We haven't been partners that long." She crossed her arms.
Soul smiled, still fighting against further outbursts of laughter. "Oh really? Well, if that's the case then please, enlighten me. What do you think they're saying, all-knowing-one?" He flopped down on the remaining segment of sofa.
She jabbed his arm lightly with one foot, failing to hide her slowly growing grin. "Well," she said primly. "They're obviously talking about … the next presidential election."
"Wrong!" he smirked. "They're talking about the effects of pollution on French wildlife."
"Why should I believe you?"
"J'apprends le français depuis trois années."
"What are you – "
"Tu ne comprenez pas du tout."
"Are you really – "
"Ne t'en fais pas.Ça m'est égal."
"You're kidding," she beamed. "Don't tell me you actually can – "
" – Speak perfectly fluent French?" He finished her sentence. "Not completely. I only had about three years' worth of lessons, but I can generally get by. If we ever decide to take a mission in Paris then it'll probably come in handy."
"Soul, that's brilliant. How'd you end up taking three years of lessons?"
A brief shadow crossed his eyes, so quickly he hoped she'd missed it. "My mother thought it was a good idea." He shrugged in a forced attempt at nonchalance.
Maka gave him a funny glance, but apparently decided not to force the subject. "Say something else," she urged, gleeful.
"Il fait beau."
"What does that mean?"
"It means the weather is nice. Il est temps pour le diner."
"What was that?"
"It's almost time for dinner."
"What else can you say?"
"Je pense que tu es mignon"
"And what did that mean."
Soul hesitated for the briefest instant. "It means I know you like to read."
Their game continued until he belatedly reminded Maka that it really was her turn to cook dinner. He quietly closed his bedroom door, blocking the exuberant sound of her retrieving pots and pans, and uneasily sat at his desk. He secretly hoped that Maka's newfound interest in language learning wouldn't lead her to check out any French-to-English dictionaries from the library.
Because "Je pense que tu es mignon" meant "I think you're kind of cute." And he had a feeling that conversation would go very differently if it was in English instead of French.