{Isabella}
He was a smoldering mountain of a man, half the size of the vehicle, and obviously trying to keep his emotions in check based upon the intensity of his eyes. His French had a distinct Quebecois accent underneath it - only if you knew. This was not an errant farmer or even a local Bûcheron.
Isabella had been foolish not to have a revolver at the ready from inside the car. And yet, what good would it have done if there had been a full patrol? She had shifted from the driver’s seat on the right side, to the left passenger’s spot - the gear shift positioning allowing the easy movement. The gentleman could see more of the blonde’s attire - herringbone wool hunting trousers and jacket with a white silk scarf peeking out. She cocked her head slightly, especially as he flashed his menacing grin and spoke in English. It was clearly a variation of the resistance code that Aramis was supposed to speak. It was also a challenge.
“I prefer Macdonald Gold Standard to Reemsta.” She responded back in English with the slightest of accents, with a variation of her own referencing the cigarettes that were issued to Canadian soldiers over the German equivalent. “But I have only Gauloises….” The brand often associated with the Resistance. She held his gaze steadily, then winked coyly. “If you wish to kill me over our choice of vices - there are better conversations to be had, sir. I am Isabella….and you are not Aramis. And this is not the best location for those conversations.”
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