The TV is silenced and the sound of Pierre’s footsteps signals his approach. A few seconds later, he opens the door, wearing the most adorable silk pajamas with a peacock pattern. For some reason they endear me to him even more. “Are you okay, mademoiselle?”
I swallow down my nerves, masking them with practiced ease. “I wondered if you’d like some hot chocolate? I believe I saw some in the pantry.”
He frowns. “You want me to make you some hot chocolate?”
“No. I can make the chocolate. What I wondered is would you like to join me for some?”
“Hot chocolate?” he says, seemingly mystified.
“I’ve heard it’s nice, and I’ve never tried it. I didn’t want to make some just for myself, so...” I leave the rest of the question unspoken. “I could make it and bring it to you?”
He clears his throat and there’s a few awkward seconds that sow the first seeds of regret at interrupting him. But then he offers me a faint smile. “I would be delighted to try some of your chocolate, mademoiselle. The instructions on how to make it are on the tin, I believe.”
I smile, relieved and full of joy that he’s agreed to my suggestion. With a little luck, he’ll let me drink it in his sitting room with him, but even if he doesn’t, it will be nice to do something nice for him, given how well he takes care of me, even if it is a small thing.
As Pierre said there would be, there were instructions on how to prepare the chocolate on the tin. I followed them to the letter and then added a sprinkling of tiny marshmallows that I found high up on a shelf, just like I saw them do in the TV show. And fifteen minutes later, I return to Pierre’s sitting room carrying two mugs of steaming delicious-smelling hot chocolate. He’s left the door ajar and I poke my head inside the room, but Pierre has already heard my approach and he beckons me inside, pausing the TV.
I pass him the mug and he lifts it to his nose and inhalesdeeply. “Smells delicious,monchou. How did you know that this was my guilty pleasure?”
“I didn’t,” I giggle. “But I’m very glad that it is.”
He pats the seat beside him on the sofa. “You may sit and drink it in here, so long as you are quiet and don’t interrupt my movie.”
“Deal!” I agree without hesitation.
He switches the TV on and we both settle back against the sofa. A giant green monster of a man appears on the screen, grunting and slamming his fist.
“Why is he so angry?” I whisper.
Pierre sighs. “Because he is the Incredible Hulk. He is always angry.”
“The Hulk? Is he an alien?”
“No. He’s a man who was exposed to gamma radiation.”
I stare at the screen and now a beautiful red-haired woman in a skintight leather suit is on the screen with the Hulk character. “Wow! Who is she?”
Pierre pauses the TV again. “Did we not just agree on your silence,monchou?”
“Sorry. It would just be easier for me to follow if I knew who main the characters were.”
“There are many main characters. They are the Avengers.”
“The Avengers?”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You have never heard of the Avengers, I assume?”
“No, but they sound cool. Are they like vigilantes?”
“No, they are superheroes. Captain America. Thor—”
“Thor is the god of thunder,” I tell him proudly.
He mutters a French curse under his breath and then he puts his chocolate on the table and turns off the movie. My heart sinks. He did ask me to let him watch his movie in silence, and I did agree.
Before I can apologize, Pierre speaks. “I can see I am going to have to give you an education,monchou. One cannot have their first introduction to the Marvel universe midway throughThe Avengers.” He holds a button on the TV remote and for some reason I can’t fathom, he speaks into it. “Iron Man.”
I stare at him, transfixed and confused, feeling like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe. And I’m even more stupefied when a few seconds later, a movie calledIron Manappears on the screen.
