"I am glad to meet you, Monsieur Laurent." He says, having to pause for a moment to shake off first the memory that seemed to smack him in the face, but still remain elusive. Aimé Laurent, he knew that name, knew it, and could almost place it... "No, no, I was expecting you. You are just much... younger than I had anticipated." He offers, and steps to one side, allowing the young man to enter. "I feel we now each other, if it is not presumptuous to ask, perhaps we know each other from Paris?"