Chapter Text
"Bonjour," The man at the checkout greets, giving your anxious face a kind smile. He says something else to you, but you don't understand and feel your heart beat even faster than before.
"Um.. j-je... tourist." You stammer. He blinks, his smile unwavering, before grabbing the telephone and dialing a number. Watching his hands, he looks at you reassuringly.
"Translateur?" He asks. Ah, something you could understand.
"Oui!"
While you wait as the man requests assistance, you glance around the airport and look for your friends again. This trip was something you all had planned for months now, and since it was Christmas week...
"Un moment, Mademoiselle." The clerk says, hanging up the phone. You smile in response, trying to keep your hopes up. You didn't see your friends at all. Someone from a back room ambles up to the desk, waving at you in greeting.
"Hi, are you the tourist?" They ask.
"Yes! Thank you for coming." Fingers clasped, you try not to seem too desperate for help. "I was separated from my friends a second ago and I don't want to miss my flight. Could you direct me to the right chamber?" Passing your plane ticket, the translator receives it with gentle hands and looks it over.
Biting your lip as you force positive thoughts to enter your head, you briefly wonder what would happen if you were stranded here in the city of love. You promised your family you'd be back for the special day, but if you end up stalling much longer off your ride home then you're screwed. You have no more money to spend, and certainly not on an expensive plane ticket!
"Oh, dear.." They mumble, frowning sympathetically as they hand it back. "I'm very sorry, Miss, but that plane took off five minutes ago. You won't be able to book another flight back until next month, either..." You nod your head stiffly, keeping a smile plastered on your face. They were only doing their job. It's not like they could magically bring the plane back for you.
"Um... do you.." You hesitate, hating to ask for it like this. "I don't have any French currency on me. Could I trade you some coins for an phone booth?" You were already pulling out your wallet.
"No, no, please, you don't have to trade me anything." The generous translator shakes their head, passing you some coins and even a few bills. "It sucks to be left in a different country. No need to worry." During this transaction, the original clerk is watching the exchange with confused eyes. "Besides, I can't do anything with money from a different country." They remind you.
...true.
"Thank you so-- ah, I mean... Merci beaucoup." You grin sheepishly. Your accent sucked ass but you were understandable enough for the translator to laugh. "Have a nice day." Turning to leave, you make sure to shove your useless plane ticket at the bottom of your bag and do your best to walk out of the airport in a timely fashion. It was already evening here, and you're not sure what time it'd be for your family back home...
Wandering the streets for a bit, it takes you a couple turns and a few awkward conversations with passerby to find a phone booth. Apparently, "cellphone house" isn't the right name for it. Pushing in a few coins, you hope you gave the correct amount and dial your dad's number. The line immediately picks up.
"Merry Christmas!" His voice instantly sings. You can hear your siblings making a ruckus in the background and suspect they're helping your mother decorate the house. You were supposed to come back to help finish that...
"Hi, Dad." Tears build up in your eyes. You wipe them away. "It's not even Christmas yet, you goof." You chuckle with a tight throat.
"I know, I know," He laughs with you. "I'm just excited! We finally get to see you after a week! It feels like months." Hearing him say this only makes the tears resurface.
"Dad.." You croak. "I'm not coming back this week." There's silence on the other end, save for your little sister screaming something about getting the bigger stocking to your little brother.
"Honey, are you crying?" Your dad asks finally.
Sniffling, you exclaim, "Yes! I missed my flight and now I'm stranded without my friends and I'm scared!" It was such a childish thing for a twenty-one year old to say, but you lose all your defenses when it comes to your family. There's was nothing to hide from them, anyway. They were there for you forever.
"Don't panic, sweetie," He says softly in your ear. You know he's nervous, too, though, since he's giving you pet names. He'd always use those monikers when he was trying to think up something fast. "Just... crash at a hotel tonight. Your mother and I can send you some money through your bank account, alright?" He offers.
"But the translator said I wouldn't get to fly home until next month! The airport is that busy!" You sob. You've never experienced such strong homesickness before.
"Shh, baby, it's alright." Your hear your mother's voice say something nearby, probably having heard your dad use multiple comforting phrases and picked up on your situation. Suddenly, numbers illuminate on a screen below the dial and your heart races quickly. "You'll be fine. You're my daughter, after all. Be brave like you've always been."
"Dad, my time is--" The call cuts off.
Without anymore change, and with no knowledge of how to ask a cashier for more, you know you're all alone now. Hopefully your dad will follow through with his suggestion and loan you some money, but your job right now is to stay strong.
Until you find a place to sleep, that is. Then you plan in bawling until you pass out.
Exiting the booth with a newfound resolve, you strut down the sidewalks of Paris and search for your next victim. Whoever you decided to bother next was going to direct you to a hotel, no matter how long it took to convey the message.
You set your sights on a lonely looking man leaning against the wall of a bread shop, clad in a sleek, black leather jacket and some matching sunglasses to go with it. Maybe heading for the shady type wasn't all that good of an idea, but he was the only person not preoccupied in some kind of way. And your dad did say "be brave," didn't he?
"Uh, salut," You begin, and the guy stands straighter at your introduction. "Je..." How do you start? "Je m'appelle Cecile." Cecile is the French name you and your friends chose for yourself, since it was easy to remember. "Je, um... can you help me?"
The stud removes his shades and replies, "Are... Are you tourist?" His English wasn't the best, but he was a lot better at it than you were at French. Relieved that you could make useful conversation, you smile and nod. "How can I... help you?" He asks, kicking off the wall and facing you fully.
"I'm looking for a hotel." You tell him, but he looks confused, so you repeat it slower. He still looks befuddled until you mention the "hotel" part. "Do you know where I can find one?"
He makes an L-shape with his fingers and places it under his chin in thought. "D-Désolé, Mademoiselle," He mumbles. "I am tourist, too." Your mouth drops in shock and disappointment, and you're about to apologize for approaching him like he was a local when he suddenly keeps speaking. "We look hotel together!" He declares.
At the thought of not being alone anymore (somewhat), you're about to agree when a thought comes into your head. "Um, I'm not looking for someone to sleep with." You tell him, in case he had any ideas. He stares at you for a second and you think you pegged him, but then he flushes furiously and shakes his head from side to side.
"Non, non, non!" He exclaims, seeming to be mortified. "I not.. eto, flirt!" His desperation to clear up the misunderstanding was enough to convince you. The word "eto" was Japanese for "uh," wasn't it? You at least knew that from your anime loving best friend.
"Comment tu t'appelle?" You ask him, giving him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, he never shared his name.
"Je m'appelle," He pauses to grin. "Karamatsu." Then, realizing something, he corrects, "Call me Michael."
"K-Kara...matsu..." You try, not used to pronouncing foreign names. He looks surprised by your attempt and repeats his name for you to try again. "Karamatsu." You say more confidently, beaming when he nods in approval. "Okay, let's go search for a place to crash." Remembering he wasn't fluent in English, you rephrase your words and talk slower. "Let's look for a hotel."
"Oui!"
Looking for a place to sleep ended up with both of you using what few French words you knew to ask other locals for directions. Because of your combined efforts, though, you managed to find one nearby and get help at an ATM. Unfortunately... your father hasn't sent any money yet, so you could only exchange what few dollars you originally had for more French currency.
"Chambre du couple?" The receptionist asks when you both approach side by side. You decided that since you found it together, you may as well rent rooms near one another (after all, neither of you knew anyone else in the country).
"Um..." You stall, trying to figure out what they were saying. Instead of stressing over it, you just nod your head in agreement and they print off a ticket for you. Before you take it, they ask for something and pull back. Confused, you look at your partner for help.
"They said 'l'argent.'" Karamatsu offers. "It means money."
"Of course," You suppress the urge to face-palm and hand over what little you have, but the receptionist still waits for more. Panicking, you aren't sure what to do when Karamatsu starts forking over his own bills, too. "You don't have to--"
"Nonsense," He chuckles, his voice deeper than you remember. "I can't have damsels in distress!" Stifling your laugh at his choice of words, you say a quick "merci" and finish the transaction.
"Votre chambre est au troisième étage. Profitez de votre séjour!" The cashier waves. Assuming they were saying what normal receptionists recite at hotels, you smile in reply and begin walking away. You can hear Karamatsu start talking to them for his own ticket, when he suddenly makes a surprised noise and you glance over your shoulder to see him staring at you anxiously.
Pausing, you wait for him to strut over, analyzing the way his eyes are downcast and glancing at your feet. "What's wrong?" You ask, before adding, "ça va?" in case he didn't know the English phrase.
"Eto..." He begins unsurely. "They say we share room." He says, face reddening as he meets your eyes. To have an excuse not to look at them, you lift the ticket in confusion and look it over. "Chambre du couple sounds like room for two." He points out.
It was such an obvious translation now that he's said it that you don't know why you were too slow to understand it before. "It can't be helped, then." You sigh, giving him the ticket. He watches in bewilderment until you tell him, "I'll just find somewhere else to sleep."
"Chottomatte!" He gasps, grabbing your elbow when you try walking past him. Your eyes widen as they pan to his worried face. "We... buy together!" He says, dropping his deep tone. "S'il vous plait think... hard." Judging by his face, you knew he wasn't able to say what he wanted to say, and was hoping you'd figure it out.
"Do you want me to stay?" After a moment, he nods.
"Not fair." He points to the ticket and your empty pocket. Ah. He wanted to share the room because he thought it was unfair that you helped pay for it.
"But..." You start, but stop and give him a thoughtful look. So far, he hasn't given you any bad vibes, nor did he seem confident enough to do anything horrible, anyway. Besides... it was only for one night, and then your dad would fill your bank account and you could afford your own room tomorrow. "Okay." You smile, hoping it'd get him to do the same.
Admittedly, sleeping in the same room as someone you just met still made you uncomfortable, no matter how you tried to justify and excuse it in your head. For all you know, this innocent act he was putting up could just be a ruse to lure you in. Luckily, the room had two beds, so neither of you had to worry about a distribution.
You take a seat on the closest bed to the door, preparing to bolt if anything suspicious DID happen. Karamatsu, on the other hand, immediately started to strip. You suspected he was only ridding his leather jacket, since it was warm in the room, but then he proceeded to slip off his shirt, then the buckle on his pants...
"Karamatsu!" You exclaim, standing up in surprise. He turns briefly at your outburst, before realizing what he was doing and sputtering out multiple sentences in Japanese. Seeing his distress and embarrassment, you can't help but console him. "It's fine, just... the bathroom's over there." You point.
While he scampers over there, you try not to think about how nice his body was. You weren't expecting to catch a glimpse of his toning abs, nor the smooth skin of his torso and biceps. He looked strong, you think, and I'm only noting that because it could mean harm for me, you tell yourself, though you know the truth.
"Shut up." You tell your brain, before rummaging through your purse for you-- "Holy hell..." You sigh, lying back on the bed and covering your face. How dumb are you? You wasted your money trying to find a phone booth when you had your phone this entire time! You knew you sucked in a crisis, but this? This is a new low for you.
Deciding not to dwell on your mistake, you turn it on and are immediately spammed with text messages from your friends. Before you can read them, a notification pops up, asking if you would like to accept the transfer of money to your bank account from your father's. If only you had thought of this sooner... Sighing again, you press "ok" and watch the influx of a couple hundred bucks fill your account. You quickly send your dad a "thank you," then see what your friends had to say.
Bangles: hey where'd you go?
Bangles: we're on the plane, are you???
Bangles: GURL FR YOU'RE MAKING ME NERVOUS
Bangles: ACTUALLY UR PROLLY DUMB ENOUGH TO HAVE UR PHONE OFF
Bangles: AREn'T YOu??!?
You can't help but laugh. She pegged you.
Bangles: I'M GONNA ASK THE PILOT TO WAIT FOR YOU
Bangles: HE SAID NO
Bangles: WHERE ARE YOU
Bangles: gurl plz tell me ur just leaving the check out
Bangles: WE'RE LEAVING
Bangles: YOU'D BETTER BE ON
After texting your best friend about your situation with Karamatsu, you apologize for worrying her and tell her you'll be fine. Then, you open up your next friends' texts.
YOBAE: hey, are you ok?
YOBAE: you suddenly disappeared
YOBAE: Tiffany is askign the pilot to wait for you
YOBAE: i don't think it'll work though
YOBAE: it didn't!
YOBAE: she's really freaking out
YOBAE: we hope you're alright
YOBAE: ccall us when you can
Cecile: I'll call you tomorrow, it's late right now. :o Have a safe flight!
Just as you finish sending your text, Karamatsu exits the bathroom and you drop your phone on your face. "Ouch.." You whisper in pain, rubbing your nose.
"Daijobu?" He asks, sauntering nearby. You look at him silently, not knowing what he said. It had to be Japanese, it didn't sound French. Seeming to realize his mistake, he reiterates, "You... fine?"
"Oh, oui, merci." You nod. He looks like he took a short shower, no longer than five minutes. His hair was damp and he was clad in one of the hotel bath robes. Unable to stop your blush as he looks down at you, you sit up so he doesn't notice and swipe through your phone. You hate your brain for being so unnecessary during moments like this. It wasn't like he was dressed in a particularly attractive way (but maybe that was the reason you were affected).
"...Cecile?"
"Oui?"
"Tu aime la glace?"
You look at him again. "La glace?" Ice cream? "Oui, pourquoi?"
"Eto..." He points at the floor. "Ils ont la glace." His French was definitely better than yours, but at least you understood.
"Ah... honto ni?" The second you're finished mimicking your horrible weaboo best friend, you're burning up. How could you even try to speak in his language? You probably just butchered it beyond repair, based on the face he's making! Ahhh just end my life! "Désolée, Karamatsu..!" You exclaim, covering your face in embarrassment.
"Non, non, non, my flower, je ne déteste pas." You peek at him through your fingers, mortified at him now. Did he really just call you his flower? "C'était mignon." He smirks, flipping his bangs.
"Je ne sais pas what to think." You mumble, dropping your hands to your lap and avoiding eye contact. How are you supposed to react to that? Understanding that he said something that bothered you, he apologizes.
"D-Désolée, Cecile. It is... normal pour moi to... parle romantiquement." You can use context clues to know what he's trying to say. You wave it off.
"De rien, je n'ai pas... garcons... appeler... moi... that." You finish awkwardly. How do you even say that? "Don't feel bad." You decide to say, even if he doesn't understand.
"La glace." He repeats, probably trying to ease the tension by changing the subject. "You... want?" Wow. You're surprised you guys can even converse with what little words you know in each other's languages. And you don't even talk to him in Japanese. He's trilingual! Damn, you just realized. That's amazing! Even though he's not the best at it, he can keep a conversation going if he tried.
"Je n'ai pas--" Shutting your mouth, you realize you do have money now. "Oui! Un moment. Let me get my l'argents." You say, opening up your back account again and ordering it to send a few ten dollar bills to the nearest ATM machine (which was at the end of the hall). You grab the hotel's key card and sling your purse over your shoulder. "I'll get it, since you're, uh, not dressed." You tell him, pointing at his robe. You doubt he understood what you said, but he nods anyways, a shocked flush on his face.
Then he unfastens the belt holding it together.
"KARA--" You whip your head around, covering your eyes. "Non! Don't undress! That's not what I meant!" You hear him start saying things in Japanese again and you take that as a sign that it's safe to look at him. Still, you turn hesitantly. You try not to seem too horrified, since he looks absolutely mortified for misunderstanding, but you can only hide your emotions so much. "You--" Closing your mouth, you realize that words can only be used to much between you two.
Walking past him and into the bathroom, you pick up the clothes he left strewn on the floor and go to him, pushing them into his chest. You don't know how to say "change," nor if he knows that word in English, so you just use your actions. When he gawks at you like you're crazy, you start undoing his belt again, much to his shock. He's glancing between you and his robes, flustered, but the second it loosens you push the clothes on him again and look him in the eye.
It clicks in his head, finally, what you're asking of him and he grabs the outfit shyly, frustrated that he didn't understand sooner. You give him a small smile before going to your bed and facing the other way to give him privacy, pulling out your phone to check your social media. Despite your attempt to respect him, he walks by you and into the bathroom anyways. Not that you mind, but you're a little befuddled on his sense of self. How could he switch from "let me strip right here" to "I'll hide in the bathroom?"
While he's busy, though, you log into your Matsugram in hopes to find something entertaining. When nothing new appears on your dash, you scroll through your own photos instead, reliving the memories that you made with the people in your life (or without them). On a whim, after you're done making fun of how ugly you look in photos, you search up how you think Karamatsu's name is spelled in the search bar. You aren't sure if he's the type of guy to take photos in the first place, but you'll give it a shot.
Turns out, Karamatsu is exactly the kind of guy who'd take photos. MANY of them.
There are tons of pictures from his (probably daily) life, featuring (mostly) himself, and... clones of himself? What the heck?!? How'd he multiply himself like that?! Did he use an app or something?!
Right on time, the man in question comes out of the bathroom in all his leather glory, but you could care less as you pad over to him with your phone held out. "Karamatsu!" You exclaim, making him flinch. You point at him in a picture. "Et.. Karamatsu, et Karamatsu, et Karamatsu... Six Karamatsu's!" You realize you sound like an infant talking when you speak in French, but it's the best you can do.
He blinks for a second, then points to your phone and holds his other palm out. Without hesitating, you hand it to him and he gingerly stares at the pictures, a strange expression on his face. Unaware of its meaning, you murmur a questioning, "Karamatsu?" When he looks back up at you, you can see that his eyes have gotten shiny. Oh no, did you encounter a psychopath? Why the heck is he crying at his own selfie?
"Mon freres." He explains. Okay, so they're not Karamatsu... but come on, siblings don't look that alike. Or are you being racist? Suddenly afraid you are, you ask the obvious.
"Are you, like... sextuplets or something?" Then remembering he probably doesn't know any of those words in English, you struggle to say it in French. "Vous... um... six même..." You don't know how to say "face" in French, so you just motion to your own.
"Visages." He responds.
"Visages?" You repeat, circling your face again, and he nods.
"Oui, six même visages." Gosh, that is mind-boggling. He hands you back your phone and you take another second to look at the picture. If you looked closely (very closely), you guess you can see some facial differences. Karamatsu shifts uncomfortably in front of you, so you put your phone away. Maybe he didn't want you finding out more about him. "Um.. la glace." He says again.
"Oh, right. Désolée." Now clad in suitable clothing again, you and Karamatsu leave the hotel room. He follows you down the hall to the ATM, watching as you withdraw the money you check for earlier. He points to it in question.
"L'argents." He names.
"Oui..?" You reply, confused.
"L'argents... chambre du couple."
"Je ne sais pas... quel... tu... asking." You stammer. Instead of using words, he points to your purse. You hand it to him. He looks through it and pulls out your wallet, then his own. He opens them and shows you the empty pockets. You blink, mind formulating all the possibilities of the significance of showing you how broke you both are.
"Non... l'argents." He points to the cash in your hand. "L'argents." Your expressions lights up with realization and he sighs inaudibly in relief.
"Mon père." You tell him, hoping that was enough of an answer. His lack of more inquiries implies that it is. Now clear of misunderstandings, you both head downstairs to the lobby. Karamatsu directs you where he witnessed someone purchasing ice cream, standing close behind you when you approach the counter with the money.
"Salut," You greet, then glance over your shoulder and point at the menu. "What do you want?" You ask him. He peruses the labels, occasionally brightening with desire before looking at you guiltily and changing his mind. He must be trying to stay mindful of how much you're spending on him, but you won't have any of that. You whack his arm affirmatively but not violently. "Choose quel tu aimes." His eyes shine for a moment in awe at your kindness, before he turns pink and points at one of the choices.
Well, out of all the available options, that was the one you least expected him to buy.
Cool guy Karamatsu, clad in black leather and shades, wanted the girliest ice cream. Not only was it strawberry (pink) topped with strawberry syrup (also pink), but it was adorned with matching pink sprinkles and cute billows of whipped cream along the edges. It didn't help it when he shyly pointed at the faux cherry topping to go with it.
Suppressing a chuckle, you bite your lip and point at the item for the cash register. Then, you gander at the menu once more for your own leisure. "...tu aimes." You turn your head and look at Karamatsu.
"Huh?" You mutter in question.
"Quel tu aimes." 'What you like,' he said. He wanted you to choose what you like? Smiling in reassurance that you wouldn't pick something you hated, you turn back to the list and point at the first thing that caught your eye.
It was only after you both had your glass bowls and were back in your apartments with them did you realize why that particular ice cream stole your attention. It reminded you of Karamatsu, in every way and form. Besides being cool (pun intended), it was a blue mint flavor and the color of the sea, speckled with blueberries and a small decorative stick with a sea turtle at the tip.
You had sat down at the edge of your bed and you saw it. How your ice cream was the same darn color as his t-shirt. You hoped to God that he didn't notice when he sat adjacent to you on his own bed. Suddenly, he holds out his bowl of ice cream.
"Voila." He presents. Confused, you nod.
"La glace." You respond.
"Non," He laughs airily, shaking his head. "Voila." Blinking one too many times, Karamatsu understands that you don't comprehend what he's trying to say. "Quel tu aimes." He repeats, holding it further out. "Quel j'aime." He moves the bowl in a circle.
"Quel tu aimes." You point to his bowl. "Quel j'aime." You point to yours. His eyes sparkle and you immediately flush in realization that you fell into a trap. "Um, I-- Je--" Man, the longer this night goes on, the more you wish you'd payed attention in French class. "J'aime mint! J'aime mint! Pourquoi es tu rouge?!"
"Heh," He chuckles, flipping his fringe dramatically and shutting his eyes with confidence. He says something in Japanese and then "Karamatsu girl" at the end. You assume you knew what he was saying and open your mouth to protest, but before you can get a word out, he moves the bowl towards you once more. "Pour vous." He smiles.
"Quelque chose que j'aime."
'Quelque chose que j'aime.'
'Somebody I like.'
"Tu... aimes..." You have to look away from his passionate eyes. "..moi?" What is this? Why is your heart beating this fast? Should you leave? You think you should leave. You can't go falling for some strange foreign man you can barely talk to in another country while also renting the same room. You have money now, you can leave. You can be smart.
"Oui," He says, happy you understand. "Voila." For the last time, he hands you his ice cream bowl, exchanging them himself. He waits for you to start eating before knowing the trade was okay. Weirdly enough, you're not uncomfortable after this. Well, not a BAD uncomfortable. "C'est tres bien." Karamatsu exclaims, holding up his spoon. "Merci beaucoup." He smiles gently.
You don't answer him, instead giving him an embarrassed look. He notices, but simply smiles to himself, enjoying the new situation as much as you felt nervous about it. He probably thought he was getting some tonight. Why else would he be so cheery? Unless you misunderstood his French again. Are you even remembering the words correctly?
Leaving your thoughts when he says something to you in Japenese, your mind freezes as he lifts his spoon up to your lips. "Ahhh," He opens his mouth for you to mimic. Instinctively, you obey, before realizing what he was doing and backing away.
"What are you--" You struggle to come up with a sentence in French. "Pourquoi..!" Is all you manage to force out.
"C'est tres bien." He says innocently. "Tu... manges." He wants you to try it?
"D'accord..." Containing your blush, you lean forward and nibble the ice cream. It was good. Like, really good. Greedily, you move forward to lick the rest on the spoon. Karamatsu adjusts it closer to your face with a content expression, seemingly giddy that he was able to feed you something nice. After realizing your unintended response, you pull away with a blush and stare at your bowl in thought.
Feeling your awkwardness, Karamatsu tries to continue the conversation. "Je mange?" He asks, pointing to your ice cream. Without hesitating, you scoop some of it onto your spoon, making sure to grab some of the cool whip and the faux cherry, before carefully ascending your hand until it bumps into his. You look at him in question, but he doesn't provide you an explanation as he grabs your wrist and brings the spoon to his mouth on his own, his gaze downcast at the sweet dessert.
Mesmerized by his movement and the warmth of his grip on your skin, you watch with fascination as he slowly eats the cool cream, focusing on the way his lips wrapped around the faux cherry and making it pop between his teeth. You don't realize he's looking at you now, watching you watch him lick the juice from the burst clean. Only when he says, "c'est bon" are you pulled from your reverie.
Absolutely mortified that you were practically aroused by him simply trying your dessert, you take your hand back from his grasp and start eating your ice cream for your own benefit. You don't mention how his mouth was all over your spoon, or how you using it now is like an indirect kiss. You're sure he knows you're thinking it anyway, since he had that increasingly annoying smirk on and was flushed triumphantly. You almost convinced yourself to get a different room.
Almost.
After some failed attempts at trying to have normal conversation, you both decided it'd be best to get some sleep. You initially wanted to shower before you rested, but for some reason you had an inkling that showering would only cause more embarrassing moments to occur, so you did without. Burying yourself under the blankets, you make accidental eye contact with Karamatsu. When he doesn't look away, you smile at him softly and point at the light between you two.
Wordlessly, he reaches over to turn it off. Maybe you two should just talk with actions, you think. You're both a lot better at understanding it.
"Bonne nuit, Cecile." You hear him murmur.
"Bonne nuit, Karamatsu." You murmur back.