He suppressed a laugh at their pronunciation. Rather charming and not nearly as contrived as the stereotypes he had heard in jokes about the French.
“Wee?…Oh. Aye…yes. Oui.”
The young lord offered each a smile and cocked dark brow in turn, noting their subtle differences. Deviating parts in their hair and colours of dress. Individual but in the same instance, cohesive.
“Macintosh’l b’ fine lov’.”
It was customary to give ones family in a greeting, forename’s were reserved for kin, close friends and countenance’s.
“D’accord, Maceentosh.” Aimee repeated. To repeat right after him would perhaps make the pronouncion correct. Their accent wasn’t that hard to figure out. His was, a little bit. But at least they understood each other.
“So, ‘ow are you doeeng today?” Fleur asked, hoping to start a conversation. “How deed you land up ‘ere?”