Jacques was late coming back from a performance at the Drury Lane Theatre, where he had the simultaneously invigorating and bewildering experience of having the king and queen walk in halfway through a performance, to a deafening rendition of Hail Britania and Hearts of Oak. Jacques had stood at their entrance, as was proper, and had bowed at an angle that conveyed respect- but not an obsequious amount- but did not condone a system of government currently finding such great disfavor in France.
He was thus rather pleased when he went back to the Embassy, and knocked on the door while smiling. For once, Jacques had no fault to find with himself and he was even happy enough to be polite to his father. “Father?” he called, in French, “I beg your pardon, but the servant said you were in. Did you get the expense reports I left on your desk?”