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Recipient: France

Ring. . .
Ring. . .
Ring. . .
Forwarding. . .

Allô! This is France, and you've reached my voice mail. If you leave a message after the tone with your name and the purpose for your call, I'll get back to you as soon as I am able. Thank you!

Beep. . .

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[ When you're living in a city as big as Goldenrod, it's hard not to notice when Christmas season starts. Buildings and trees alike suddenly sprout fairy lights, festive music blares everywhere, and, of course, the department store kicks its advertising into overdrive. Buy gifts for your family, your friends, your loved ones, hell, your hated ones too, why not! And so one December day, as things return to normal after November's weirdness, and as Valmont reluctantly hands out Game Corner flyers for the hundredth time to people who don't particularly care about the Game Corner or flyers thereof, it occurs to him that maybe he ought to get Raikov a present.

Immediately after, it occurs to him that this is a very stupid idea. He doesn't spend money on other people, and what does one get for one's sort-of-boyfriend who's a pain in the arse half the time anyway? Raikov didn't even know Christmas existed until a couple of weeks ago. He would be perfectly justified in getting him absolutely nothing.

But once it's several days later and - for whatever reason - he still can't get the thought out of his head, he figures maybe he'd better get a second opinion. Hmm. Who here in this blasted world has actual taste and could give him advice that he'd respect? ]

Er, Mr. Francis? I have a question for you.

[France should be doing something productive, but he's not. He's currently working on a Christmas gift for Envy. He's got what he suspects the texture of the candy to be right, but the flavouring is difficult to replicate. How to make a Philosopher's Stone-like candy...]

[This is what he's pondering as he picks up Valmont's call.]

Allô, Valmont. What question has brought you to seek this France?

Edited 2014-12-04 20:02 (UTC)

[ Can't help you with the candy question, France. Valmont would and has burned water. ]

If there were someone... er, that is to say, if you were in a... a sort of... What would you get someone for Christmas?

[ He blurts out this last part as quickly as he possibly can, face going red. It's... oddly cute? ]

[France clearly does think that this is cute. His expression is that particular combination of soft happiness and gentle amusement.]

I take it that this isn't just any someone. First of all, we start with the basics. Is there anything you know that this person needs or wants?

If I knew that, I'd just go ahead and buy those, wouldn't I?

[ V, don't snap at people you're trying to get help from. ]

Er, what I mean to say is... I'm not aware of anything he particularly needs, no. [ Note to self: pay more attention to Raikov's needs. Why is caring about other people so complicated? ]

[...You remind France so much of England right now that it's uncanny. Considering that Ivan reminds France of Russia, once he put two and two together exactly, he's going to have a huge laugh. And maybe cry a little because France is like that.]

[France's grin widens, the humour he finds here lighting his eyes. It's at Valmont's expense, but it's not mean-spirited. If anything, it's sympathetic, the sort of humour one takes because they understand the situation on a personal level.]

Do you know if they like anything in particular? Do they have any hobbies? Or do you know of anything they miss from their world? As all of us are foreigners in this strange land, something familiar as well as personal is always greatly appreciated.

[ Luckily, Valmont's too distracted by his own problems to pick up on the fact that France is finding him amusing. He wouldn't take kindly to that, mean-spirited or not. Though he might be pleased to know he's being compared to England. ]

Er.

[ He has to think about France's questions for a bit. What does he know that Raikov likes to do? Outside of the bedroom, anyway. ]

Well, he's a decent cook. And something of an artist as well. [ Which is Valmont's way of saying he's very good at both those things. ] I don't suppose you'd have an idea of the sort of thing someone like that could use?

[France's hand drifts to his hair, idly playing with it. Aw, Valmont. Your dress sense is still not something that France would wish upon any artistic soul, but your heart seems to be in the right place here.]

[He leans forward, leveling a darkly flirtatious look at Valmont.]

Are you sure you aren't describing me?

[He lets the act go immediately, though, humming a light, contented sound.]

Do you know if your object of interest has a good travelling set of either cookery or art supplies? We do so much travelling in this place, even if we don't really mean to, and having a high quality set does wonders for comfort on the road.

[ His dress sense is impeccable, you boor. ]

I - of course not! The very idea! [ He flushes deeper. ] Er - not that you're not an attractive man, of course - [ Smooth recovery, V. Smooth.

...Oh. He was joking. Well, that's him looking like a right fool, then, isn't it. ]

Er. Traveling? [ He repeats this blankly before remembering that words have meanings. ] You may have a point there. As far as I know he hasn't done much traveling in a while, but one ought to be prepared for any eventuality. [ France may detect the slightest disappointment in Valmont's voice at this last bit. It's not like he'd miss Raikov if he went away, or anything. ]

As I am... not especially well-versed in either of these areas, would you have any suggestions as to particular items I might look for?

[Naw, France is a cock.]

[He makes a lazy, regally dismissive gesture.]

I am most attractive.

[He moves on from that statement without even a beat.]

Since the bags in this world seem to have unlimited amount of space and compensate amazingly for weight, you don't have to worry about size or heft. He likely already has the basics, so I would suggest getting him things like -

[France pauses, a light going on in his eyes.]

A moment. Excuse me.

[He gets up and goes back into the kitchen. He picks up the only thing in this particular kitchen that he brings in from home: the spice rack he was given as a gift a few years ago now. When he comes back out to Valmont, he sets it on his side of the table before sitting back down.]

I received this as a gift. I'm pretty sure it was ordered from the Goldenrod Department Store, and it's very good quality. I do confess: I don't know how much it is, but I definitely recommend something along this line. It's just fancy enough that it wouldn't be something people usually justify buying for themselves but they are likely to want.

You're somewhat attractive, don't let's get carried away now.

Hmm. [ He regards the spice rack carefully. He doesn't know what it's for, precisely, but it seems to be one of those... things cooks use. And that being the case, Raikov could presumably use one as well. He hopes. ]

Well. You've been... helpful. [ Expecting a "thank you"? Clearly you don't know Valmont that well. ] It would appear I must set foot in the department store, then. [ The things he does for his... whatever Raikov is. ]

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