Arthur was having a bad day. A really, really bad day. It all started when he forgot to wind up his alarm clock the night before, causing him to wake up an hour late. In the shower he received note that he had forgotten to pay the water bill, cutting him from warm water. Then in the kitchen he found out that he was out of milk and his breakfast tea. A little later he realized he never got around to putting his most favorite tie in the washer. Then he couldn't find a copy of one of his most important contracts. Seeing as he was already late, he stormed to the parking lot only to find out that his car wouldn't start. Furious, he decided to take a bus, only to notice that he didn't have enough change to buy a ticket. After arriving to work two hours late after a long walk (which luckily was nothing to Arthur), he got yelled at by his superior. Then he yelled at him some more. Having had enough, he yelled back at him and lost his job. A little later in the grocery store he managed to get behind the longest lane. When he finally got outside, it started raining and he didn't have an umbrella with him. Absolutely livid, he started his walk home only to realize this was the heaviest rain they have had in 6 months. Completely soaked, he reached his apartment block and nearly got run down by a moving truck. Ready to punch anyone who got in his way, he finally made it to his flat. Then he saw that the empty accommodation next to his was being refurbished, which meant he would have to tolerate annoying neighbors. Finally between the safe walls of his home, he could relax. He was still frustrated, though - since it was still raining heavily, there was no chance he could go running and let out some steam. He decided to follow the wise words of his mother: keep calm and put the kettle on. Waiting the water to boil, he changed from his wet clothes into a sharp casual outfit (a British gentleman should always look like the best of him). Having done that, he refilled Bosey's food bowl and poured himself some English afternoon tea. Arthur had finally sat down to enjoy his cup, when the doorbell rang. Sighing and gritting his teeth, he set down the cup and went to answer the door.

"Bonjour! Good day!"

Arthur stared at the stranger judgingly. He was a handsome man (if Arthur would say something like that about a man like this peace disturber), probably in his early twenties, just like he himself was. His blond hair framed his face nicely and the little stubble on his chin and jawline was neatly trimmed. He was wearing nice clothes - "Probably more expensive than the ones I'm wearing," Arthur thought, a bitter tone of jealousy stinging himself when he remembered he had just been fired - and everything about him made Arthur think that the man was generally a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, someone who is always seeking opportunities for his own benefit and who is a very good people-person.

"Yes?" he asked and looked at the stranger who was feeling a little puzzled. "Oh, oui! Pardon me, I forgot that you should always state your name first when conversing in this country," he muffled, causing Arthur to cock his eyebrow. He now realized he was dealing with an accented Frenchman here. "Guess I was right about this pansy," he thought to himself when the man was introducing himself. "My name is Francis Bonnefoy," he smiled widely, revealing his pearly whites. "I came to England from France as part of a project called-" He stopped when he saw Arthur shifting in his door-frame. "Ah, but this story is far too long, so anyway, I'm here to tell you that from this day on I will be your neighbor for at least a year." "Yeah, okay, sure," Arthur only replied and shut the door to Francis' face, being oblivious to the fact that he wanted to say something more and that he held a small package in his hands for Arthur. "I don't have time for stupid neighbors, French neighbors," he grumbled when he got back to his tea. The day was already being a massive pain in the ass and he didn't need the unwanted attention of a new neighbor. "Ugh, not now, Bosey, you don't even like rain," he exclaimed when his English bulldog was nudging him as a sign to go outside. Disappointed, he turned his back to his master and went to leisure on the couch.

It was about 7 o'clock in the evening when Arthur heard the moving personnel finally leave the apartment next door. "How much furniture and stuff did this guy have anyway?" he thought to himself when he was washing the dishes. It was weird for him to do this so early in the evening. Usually he'd be home at about 6 PM and he would be out running at that moment, which he still hadn't have the chance to do since it was still pouring down heavily. He had already gone through his bank accounts to estimate the time he could spend unemployed. Luckily he had been saving up for quite some time to live easy if anything should happen, but he isn't the spending type. He was about to go and make himself his evening cup of tea, when he felt like an empty hole was inhabiting his stomach. "Arthur Kirkland!" he could hear his mother screaming in his head, "How many times have I told you to act like a proper gentleman all the time, no matter the time and the place!" He knew that the way he had behaved with Francis was rude and that his first impression of him must have been awful. The least he could've done is give him a warm welcome. "The French like presents, right?" he asked from Bosey who was sitting next to the counter. Arthur knew he didn't have anything proper in his house to give, but being innovative like he usually was, he found an old little basket from the dresser and thought of making a small gift-basket. "He'll probably like it, it's this... petite cute stuff, they like that, don't they," he mumbled to himself when he was rummaging through his pantry and cupboards. In the end he tied a little ribbon he found to the handle. He was proud of himself, he made had made the basket look like he had run to the store right after their little incident, even though he only did it in 10 minutes or less. It contained small packages of the English-must-drink teas and a few of his favorites, a bag of sweet bisquits from his mum who visited him just a few days ago and an autumn-colored scarf he had just finished knitting. His heart racing from the thought that Francis wouldn't accept his most humble apology, he left his apartment and knocked on the Frenchman's door. A few moments later a curious Francis opened the door, happy and awaiting who his first guest would be. Surprised, he looked at Arthur who was staring him straight in the eyes with a determined look for a few seconds, when he finally asked if the Brit wanted something. "Yes," Arthur answered. "May I come in?" Francis nodded. "Of course, but excuse my messiness, I haven't managed to unpack everything just yet."

The apartment plan was just like Arthur's; every flat in this block was built that way: it was basically a very wide area, a big room with an open kitchen, living room and bedroom, all a little separated by some walls. Only the bathroom, the pantry and the office were separate rooms. The coloration was in pastel colors, easy on the eyes and the furbishing was also very nice and fitted to the room. A lot of cardboard boxes were lying here and there and Arthur was surprised to see that nearly half of them were already emptied.

"So, how can I help you, mister..." "Oh, I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland," he said and offered Francis his hand. They shook and Arthur continued: "Listen, mr. Bonnefoy-" "Call me Francis, Arthùr," he smiled. "Actually it's pronounced... uh, never mind. Alright, Francis, I wanted to apologize for behaving so rudely before. It was completely inadequate of me, I didn't mean to act like - what, did I say something?" Francis was laughing and he said cheerily: "Oh, Arthùr, so it is true what they say of you, British! It's alright, but I am very happy to hear that it wasn't your intention to put me off like this." Arthur smiled and handed him over the basket he had worked on. "Here," he said, "a little welcoming gift." Francis chuckled. "Today is just full of surprises!" "Yeah, tell me about it," the other sighed and looked at his wristwatch. "Oh, no-no-no, it's nothing like that," he exclaimed when Francis looked at him with a slightly disappointed look, "it's just a habit of mine. It's a long story and the time is late anyway, so... Oh yeah, I was wondering maybe you'd like to hit the pub some night, I could show you around and we could get to know each other a little more, since, well, you know, we're neighbors now and all." Francis was surprised to see some kindness since he had always been under the impression the English look out mostly for people inside their circles. "I'd be delighted," he answered. "Great! Well, I'll just stop by your place some night when it isn't raining," Arthur said and opened the door, when the Frenchman stopped him. "I also had something for you!" he smiled and ran to the kitchen. He took out the little box from the fridge and handed it to Arthur. "Just a little "hello-I-am-you-new-neighbor" gift." Arthur thanked him, wished him a good night and went back to his apartment. He sighed when he locked the door, thinking he had acted way too friendly and he wasn't sure if inviting this snobbish Frenchman to the pub with his friends was such a great idea. He went to the kitchen, Bosey following him interested, and opened the small white box. He sighed in awe as he watched two green tarts glisten in the lamps - he had always had a secret sweet tooth.