Skipping to escape the rain, they ran to a delicatessen near the Palace in Versailles. Her fingers drowned on strawberry sauce. His thin index fingers flipped like two sticky legs on a stinky plate of hot sausages. She drooled and drizzled the weeping sauce over her sweater. Wicked weak and wacky, he freaked out, rolling his eyes out of their orbits, horrified.

'Oh Gosh, he's having epilepsy or a heart attack. Somebody help!' She looked for help.

Averting her gaze, he scratched and stretched mercilessly the corner of his eyelid with his little finger, in disapproval. He picked his nicked neck, leaving a pink spot on his pale skin. He was terrified by her manners and the way she ate that crepe Suzette. He came from a Swiss family, so he liked neat things.

'I came from an austere Austrian-German family,' she shouted, 'I need fork and knife.' He smirked.

'How am I supposed to eat properly, not poorly, if the jelly pours through my fingers?' She screamed. He laughed, while she tried to avoid the berries from being wasted.

Splashed and ditched the dish.

'You wouldn't hate her, if you ate her...'

His gorgeous eyes opened wide as his gorge rose at the sight of her hand, a fleeting glance. He turned his back, probably to ruminate upon what he'd told her, so embarrassed... or not. He was contemplating in the mirror the handshaped red mark she'd just left on his rosy cheek swell.

'...unless she loves you...'

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