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R (vagueambition) wrote in wariscoming,

He shook his head, the mirth clear on his face as he reached for the bag, pulling out one of the what looked like chocolate muffins. He was dubious still, but today was the first day in many that he'd felt he had any sort of want to eat at all. And if he was going to eat anything, it might as well involve chocolate.

The amused smile turned to a chuckle at the way she pronounced it. "Pont d'Iéna," he repeated more slowly. "It is a bridge that crosses the Seine. One of our poor rivers that pale so against your great fjords. I think I have a sketch of it, somewhere. But perhaps we will. Travel is meant to be easier these days. And it is more beautiful to see in person than anything I can recreate."

He broke off a piece of muffin and put it in his mouth, effectively cutting himself off before he found himself off on another tangent, as was his habit. Though he'd found himself a lot better at placing a filter between his brain and his mouth since he'd been sober.