Julius chuckled once in response to Dietre’s comment on his story. “Non,” he slipped into French, though it was one of the simpler words to translate. “I lived in rural Quebec, and my parents worked in a factory in the city. So, no, no one was around to help. Fortunately it wasn’t too cold out, but it was cold enough for me to catch a bit of a cold,” he explained. It was more like pneumonia, but that was okay. “It was a long time ago. Very long. Seems unimportant now.” Part of that was trying to tell the boy that he was okay, but the rest was his way of telling him that things got better, even if it took awhile. It was easy for lonely people to sense a kindred spirit… at least it had always been for him.
He’d ask questions after he answered them; as they developed a rapport. Trust was best earned.
Perhaps the desired relaxing effect hadn’t been achieved, but Dietre at least appeared to be a little calmer around him now. “It isn’t a problem,” he offered with a genuine smile as he turned into the coffee shop and pulled through the drive through. “How do you take your coffee?” he asked calmly.