There were people here, so Ellie felt as though she were interacting in some way -- just by being close, listening to conversations, sometimes making eye contact and looking away. Meanwhile, everyone was busy. They didn't seem particularly attentive of anything but the jobs they had to do; nobody asked Ellie questions, and she didn't have to really try. It was just like immersion learning. Like putting on a language tape before going to sleep. Whether or not it worked was questionable, but it gave you a good feeling, and sometimes confidence could bring out latent abilities. Right?
Right.
She was sitting on the floor, a large book of poetry propped open in her lap. Now and then she looked up to observe the activity; it was during a moment like this that Evan appeared. At first he inspired no real reaction from Eloise, but then... Then.
It was strange. Ellie could feel herself wanting to smile. Maybe she was smiling, somewhere deep inside. The man was speaking French in an accent just like her mother's. Marseille.
She hadn't spoken French in weeks, either. For a moment she faltered, opening and closing her mouth; then she shook her head at him. "Careful there, mister," she managed. I guess French is like riding a bicycle, she thought, feeling happy for once. It came tumbling out of her mouth so easily. "You wouldn't want to break anything."