~*FranceXxXReader*~ La Meilleure Sorte d'Amour {3}

~*FRANCEXxXREADER*~ La Meilleure Sorte d'Amour


{Chapter 3:…or a Blessing?}


Francis watched from the alleyway as ___ and Arthur said goodbye. They had simply uttered the word and waved as they went their separate ways, and as soon as he saw l'Angleterre drive away, Francis began to follow ___.

As he did, he noticed she seemed a little on edge, walking slowly and glancing around as she did. She flinched at every noise she heard, and she even jumped once or twice when someone bid her "hello."

''er stupid boyfriend must still be in zis city…' Francis frowned, knowing that he could not protect her in his current state, nor could he get reward sex.

"…or any sex," he added silently. Just as he said the words, he passed a pet shop, where a ton of cats looked down at him. They must have been female because they were looking at him like the human women used to…when he was a man. The thought depressed him, and he didn't even want to think about the one way he could get some pleasure…He shuddered and sped up, trying to catch up with ___.

Finally, after several blocks of walking, ___ entered a rather large, brick building. Looking at the sign, he realized, it was a clinic. He walked up to the window and peered inside to see name talking with a woman, who had been sitting at the front desk. They talked for a bit, exchanging cordial smiles and laughs, before ___ walked passed the desk, waving to the woman as she walked into a back room.

Feeling like he was going to be here forever, Francis decided to lie down and rest after all that walking. He tried to ignore the fact that he was practically naked and lying on the sidewalk, but it was becoming very hard with each passing second. Who could have walked here? What kind of things were on the bottom of their shoes? Where have their shoes been prior to walking down this street? Paranoia crept on him, but before he could completely lose it, ___ walked out of the clinic and stood next to a bus stop sign.

Francis waited too, knowing he would be going on that bus with her.

***

When the bus came, the driver opened the doors and smiled at ___, greeting her as if they were old friends. Francis, confused by this, simply shrugged and snuck onto the bus while the driver was preoccupied with her. He crawled underneath the seats, shuddering at the amount of dust and dirt on the floors as he went.

Francis jumped up on one of the chairs, figuring it was far back enough for him not to get noticed by the driver, and just as he jumped, the bus started moving. Poking his head in between the two chairs in front of him, Francis craned his neck to see ___ sitting in the front. He stood there, uncomfortably, for a moment, debating whether or not he should go up to her. Figuring she was an animal person, he could see her taking him home with her, which is what he wanted her to do, but he could also get him and her thrown off the bus…Then again, the bus driver DID seem friendly with ___...

Shaking his head, he sighed as he sat back in his chair, deciding that now was not the time to reveal himself.


***

Francis let out a long yawn as he sat on the rocking chair on the front porch of some random person's house. ___ had been inside for twenty minutes now, but this wasn't the first random house she had gone into.

When the bus had finally stopped for ___, they were a few miles outside the city in a small, secluded neighborhood. The houses were spread apart, the largest of them being less than a quarter of the size of Francis' mansion outside of Paris.

'Was zis what l'Angleterre meant by "poor?"'

He could only wonder as he followed ___ down the streets, stopping in front of one of the tiniest houses on the street. It was an old house, probably dating back to the early eighteen hundreds from the design of it, but the chipping white paint, un-groomed yard, and crumbling brick that made the chimney also gave him the hunch.

As he paused, hiding behind a bush, he prayed to God that this wasn't her house. How could he live in such a place? Francis had no idea.

Fortunately, she had rung the bell, and the door was opened by an elderly woman in a wheel chair. Francis couldn't get a good view of her, besides the wheels of her wheel chair and her white, curly hair, and before he knew it, ___ was closing the door.

She would spend at least an hour at each house she went to, and every person who answered the door was fifty years of age or older. These stops confused him, and he found himself pondering reasons to pass the time. So, here he was, waiting for ___ yet again.

Ignoring the strange noises coming from his stomach, Francis looked up to the darkening sky. He hoped this was the last house because he wanted to go to her home where it was warm and there was food…The mere thought of food left his mouth watering, and he found himself desiring fish; he would die if she had fish…

"Thanks again, ___," an elderly man said as he stood in the doorway, hunched over.

___ smiled, clasping her hands in front of her, "It was no trouble, Eddy. I'm just doing my job."

"I think cleaning most of my house isn't in your job description, but I appreciate it," he coughed a bit, making ___'s (b/c) eyebrows furrow.

She reached out a hand to place on his sweater clad shoulder, giving him a worried frown, "Are you okay, Eddy? Do you need me to stay longer?"

"No," he recovered, waving her away. "You're young, love. Go out and enjoy life while you still can. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" ___ hesitated as she stepped back a bit.

"Positive, love," he smiled at her, dimples showing even in his old age. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Eddy!" she waved as she skipped down the splintering steps of his front porch.

Once the door was closed, Francis jumped from the red cushion he had been resting on, causing the rocking chair to go back and forth. He ran to catch up with her, and as he did he marveled at how oblivious she could be to his presence. Then again, wasn't it dangerous to be poor and oblivious? Wouldn't people take advantage of a poor, young, and beautiful girl like ___?

The thoughts frightened Francis, causing him to lose track of his footing; he fell to the ground, tripping over an up-rooting sidewalk. The sound, apparently, was loud enough for ___ to notice.


***


___ turned around, gasping at the sight before her. A blond cat had tripped on the sidewalk and was now lying on the ground, crying in pain.

Rushing over to the cat, ___ knelt down and tried to help him up, grabbing his arm gently with her hand to help him stand. Surprisingly, the cat didn't fight her and did as she wished; he stood on all fours, staring up at her face, his blue, sparkling eyes staring into her own.

After breaking away from the cat's strikingly compelling and familiar gaze, ___ let her eyes graze the cat over, looking for any injuries or blood. A small cut was on his leg, bleeding slightly, but not significantly enough for her to be too worried.

"It's alright," she cooed, holding out her arms to the cat; she was going to take him home with her. "I only want to help."

The cat meowed and SMILED as he jumped into her open arms. Grinning down at her new companion, ___ held him close as she continued down the sidewalk to her house. All the while, the cat grinned, purring as he rubbed his furry, little head against her neck.