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He is so fucking lost.
It all started when Louis snuck on a ship to hide from the aggressive mobs after him, unbeknownst to where it will take him — and if he were to be honest, that was an extremely stupid move to do. On top of that, he’s now stuck in the British’s 13 colonies in America, or in short, he cannot get back to France because there is a war here and he doesn’t even know how to get back either.
Great, very great.
It took him a while to grow accustomed to the people and the land, plus he learned a new language, quite nice honestly though never thought he would learn the very language of the country he used to hate so much. (He still doesn’t like the Brits)
And some things happened here and there, for example, that Boston Tea Party that happened a few years ago — could be longer, doesn't have anything reliable to track time besides his memory, can’t believe they didn’t invite him, although he can excused that he looks a bit weird for them.
He usually spends his days wandering around the battle field, not inside of it of course! That would be idiotic, and he’s quite sure that no one would want to see him. Instead, he observe the actions from further away before going in and scatter things like some vulture, for these places proves him with fresh skin — from the bodies that the men on both sides didn’t get to retrieve, certain necessities and some food, actual food, not just random things he found scattered around the forest floor and humans.
Whatever! It’s better than nothing and he’s not complaining.
Athough one particular event that intrigued him happened this morning, when he saw a redcoat accidentally shot himself in the abdomen, that look really painful. Louis's hands twitches a bit, he wanted to save the man, he know how to save the man, but this monstrous face wouldn't be welcomed by those men. So he watches as the wounded soldier's comrades around him didn’t really look impressed at first, as if this happened frequently, until they realised that it is lethal and tended for him. Although, it seems like the guy didn’t make it, whatever...
Somewhere in the afternoon, Louis came back to the spot — not that he care about that random redcoat though, he doesn’t have the time for that, but it is because that he was hoping that the British troops forgot something he could take with, albeit, chances are low since they were just moving, nó real fights happened.
“Hey, you!”
Louis flinched as he looks around in fright, impossible, the Brits didn’t set up a camp here this place did they? Yet when he eyes graces the field, there is no one, his panic slowly succumbed to a wave of confusion, confused as to where the voice came from. Until he heard another one.
“Hello?!”
The voice, too, sounded confused, frightened even.
“Weird lookin’… chap, monster thing? Can you hear me?”
And British.
In fact, that voice sounded like some haughty bitch but he won’t get into that.
Louis scans the field once again, trying to find the source of the voice this time. And as he is losing hope, he saw something, a faint silhouette of someone- It’s that redcoat he saw this morning…
…sigh
The infantryman’s face seems to lighten up when he saw that Louis, is in fact, looking at him and not through him.
“Yes, finally! Someone I can communicate to!”
He was so happy that it almost made Louis felt guilty about the thought of walking away, considering that this is a ghost, and spirts in general are fixed in the place where they died.
But the guilt was blown away the moment the ghoul started to babbling.
“Do you know where am I? Where is everybody!? Why doesn’t anyone react to me!!!?”
Yeah he really should leave the guy here. Although as he started leaving, the ghost actually followed him, turns out he’s a rouge, right, he didn't died in a building of sort, you’ve got to be kidding…
“Hey! I’m not done with you yet!”
“Oh, mon Dieu, peux-tu te taire?!”
The ghost really did fell silent, good, GOOD, it’s started to get annoying with the-
“A fucking Frenchie, of course, that explained how you look.” The redcoat said in the most insufferable tone ever, it makes Louis’s blood boil in an instant.
“What did you said about me?"
The British suddenly got into a praying position, as he look up at the sky with masked tear ridden eyes.
“Oh Father, what have I done to get punished with so hideous a person, let alone Frenchman!?”
It left Louis speechless, the urge to just kick the redcoat in the stomach is unbearable, yet he knows he cannot, for his foot will definitely go through the ghost.
“And is there a problem, sir?”
“Yes! It is because of you and your country that I am here! If it weren’t for you Frenchies helping these colonies, I wouldn’t get drafted! I would've stayed at home and spent my life in luxury!"
“No I- I didn’t even know about all the fighting you're having!”
Their babbling goes on for a while before both of them realised that arguing won’t get them anywhere, although neither wanted to admit defeat, because if there are something they have in common, it was their “fair-haired ego”.
So they stood there, staring at each other with seething rage towards each other.
Though it was Louis who made the first move, he gives out a hand as a piece offering, hoping that the redcoat understands the intention despite not being able to shake it. And fortunately, he did, oh thank goodness, at least he doesn’t wasted even more time for nonsensical arguing.
“Should we introduce ourselves?” Asked the ghost.
“Perchance, and besides, I don’t think there are anyone you could rely on at the moment, considering your situation.”
The Brit huffed, his ego damaged.
“Joseph Francis Kurtz, the great heir of my family, and don't take this as read, we're only doing this because I'm desperate.”
"Of course not, I wouldn't want to associate with someone like you." Louis chuckles “I'm Louis Jean-Baptiste Enrette, pleasure to meet.”
“Not a pleasure at my side though.”
“I did not asked for your opinion.”