It was 10 AM when Francis woke up, the Sun shining in his eyes. "Boy, did I woke early today. Must be because of the anxiety from moving," he thought when he looked at his cellphone. He stretched himself and closed his eyes so he could lay in the light warmness, when a muffled door-shut made him open them again. Every floor had only two apartments, so it wasn't a mystery who caused the slam. He got up and stood by the window to see his neighbor exit the building with a bulldog to the park with a brisk step. Francis opened the window, stepped onto the balcony and let his eyes stride over the street-view. It was a beautiful day, nothing like the one before. The Sun was shining, no cloud hindered the skies and the weather was mild with an occasional slightly chilly gust of wind blowing. Because it was raining when he arrived to his new home, he couldn't get a proper glimpse of the neighborhood before. It was a nice area, Victorian apartment blocks paving the road with trees and bushes on every corner. "So, Paris-like boulevards do exist in London after all," he smiled when looked how peaceful the cul-de-sac was. He noted that there were no tourists around at all. "I should definitely get a little table and a few chairs here," he thought when he looked around the little balcony. Satisfied with himself, he went back in to make himself a nice sweet breakfast.

Francis had decided to cover some land today. Because his bank account was quite healthy at that time, he didn't feel the need to look for a job. Whenever he was feeling he was getting a little low on cash, he could had just sold one of his paintings he did on his free time. His pro-camera in his hand, he was looking at the door which would lead him to discover what this strange city of Europe had for him to offer. Francis had a habit of taking photographs of nearly everything that crossed his way. Be it people, animals, sights, things or streets, he took photos of them all. He liked diversity and sought to find different views of life he could someday use in his paintings. "No doubt Arthùr on the other hand is the type who enjoys a quiet life with no diversions," he thought to himself when he looked at the scarf he got from him the night before. He was amazed how soft it felt and how neatly it was done. "That is some high quality clothing," he smiled, "I have to ask him later where he had bought it." The aspect that it matched the coat he was wearing made him even more content with himself and he stepped out to the corridor to take the elevator down. He wasn't completely sure about the machinery, since it originated from the late 1800's. "Why won't they have stairs here," he grumbled when the elevator started coming up before he could press the button. The elevator was slow and Francis was on the top floor - the fifth -, which meant that he'll be waiting for about two minutes for the ride to arrive, not to mind the fact that there was always a chance that a person went onto it from the same floor it stopped, spending even more time. He looked out the window and thought of using one of the fire-stairs along the house to leave, when he heard the elevator stop on his floor. "Oh, morning," Arthur said when he pulled the ear-buds off. "Bonj- good morning," Francis corrected himself, earning a laugh from his neighbor. "It's quite alright, I know a little French... from the movies, so it's the usual dumb stuff," he mustered as he was searching his pockets for his keys. "You have a lovely dog," Francis smiled and petted the English bulldog. "A complete mutt. His name is Bosey and he practically represents the lazy part of me. Oh, about the pub thing," he said when the Frenchman stood up. "If you're not busy we could go to the Hellhound tonight. Some of my mates from the uni are there too, so we can all adjust you to the busy life of London together." "Hellhound? Sure, tonight sounds good," he replied when he looked the Brit sigh of relief. "Great! So... I'll come by your door at about 8, alright?" he asked when he opened his apartment's door. "I'll be sure to be home by that time," Francis replied and wished him a good day. He had stepped into the elevator and started making his way down when Arthur finally went to his flat. "Note to self: be polite at all times. That won't be hard," he chuckled to himself and took a few photos of the old buttons inside the lift.