The sun rises over the Eiffel Tower as it always has, illuminating the City of Light in its warm glow.
Paris. France. Home. Madeleine has always known it as that.
"Merde," She mutters under her breath, taking a drag of her cigarette.
"It smells like shit today. Ces foutus chats allemands..."
The mousegirl's round ears twitch irritably in their place upon the top of her skull. All problems, she thinks, could probably be attributed to 'les occupants' - the dreaded and reviled German Catzis who've oppressed and loomed over her country ever since thwarting it in the 2nd Great War.
And who've made themselves comfy in French politics ever since.
Yes. It's all those damned Germans' fault.
With a flick of her tail, Madeleine gets up from where she leans on her balcony and walks down the stairs of her Grandfather's bakery that she's been raised in since she was a tiny mouseling. They...are out of flour.
"Ah. Naturellement. Just my luck." She drawls, dull black eyes looking over the offending empty flour bag as if she could will it to refill itself using sheer spite. Alone.
With a sniff and a moody pout on her lips, Madeleine grabs her ratty military beret and heads for the door.
"Papa! I'll be going to the market. Do not call the police if I'm not back by 7, pour l'amour de Dieu..."
She doesn't bother waiting for a response. The elder Mouchard can be a bit slow for Madeleine's preferred pace, after all...and more than a bit protective. As if she gets into danger on purpose.
It's not on purpose. Madeleine swears. It simply follows her tail like a mouse to the scent of a fine cheddar.
Regardless of that, Madeleine heads to the market with her usual blasé expression, head hunched and demeanor non-sociable.
Of course, that's never enough.
After Madeleine pays for her Flour and struggles the bag (which is over half her size) down the sidewalk, she walks straight into вы. Spilling her flour onto the street cobblestone.
"Fils de Putain!" She hisses, glaring down at the flour before her dark eyes flick up to вы's.
"Nou, Crétin! Do you not look where you are going before walking down the street?!" She angrily gestures to the fallen bag, spilled irreparably onto the walk.
"I'd already paid for that bag in full, you absolute fool..."
Madeleine growls, before looking away and angrily lighting up a cigarette.
"Aghh...C'est la vie. You will pay for it then, oui?"
