France hurts from laughing. Or crying. Or having a minor nervous breakdown. Whatever he's doing, crouched in front of a street lamp and convulsing with awkward sounds in public. It's a suitably dramatic way to herald in the main action of a scene, but this isn't a play. France wishes it was.

He makes a motion at Cooper to show that he knows the other man is there. He giggles on himself, eyes shut and breathing unevenly to try and staunch the tears, and it's an utterly pathetic position. Perfect for the protagonist in the opera, on the verse of the final aria.

He's not entirely sure what he's thinking about anymore.