(OOC: I think it's a good length for a situation like this one, lots of details that aren't obtrusive and the two-hour remnance will give them a good amount of time to get acquainted before they have to actually get to work.)<br/><br/><br/>" "Lavinia Fondaine, monsieur. Charmed, I'm sure." She couldn't help bust laugh a little at his obvious discontentmentt with the fligh, though it was no small wonder with how the staff behaved. Before she could add much else, the stewertess arrived to reluctantly take their drink orders.  Her tiny painted lips seemed to sneer at the woman when he offered to buy her a drink, a kind of  ghostly, subtle mocking smile that begged the woman to get angry over something so stupid.<br/><br/>"Chouchen, if you please?"  It was her favorite.  A drink she'd tasted very young in Paris while he was a student in Paris.  Sweet and heavy, it reminded her not of the city of lights, but of the Romani side of her heratidge.  The drink itself was French, but the taste and texture reminded her of the music and people of her father's country.  He had gone so far as to take her via train into the country, only to quickly exit again as the result of (at the time) Prince Gustav's early yet strong influence.  She was a young teenager then, perhaps 13 or 14-years old.  She couldn't remember now.  Somehow having a summer birthday always tripped her up when recalling events.<br/><br/>Once the stewertess had left to retrieve the drinks, she turned her focus back toward Arthur.  "So, where is it that you are from Monsieur Southwell?" The name came out something like Sowthuell, and she felt herself a little embarrased at her inability to make the "th" and the "w" sounds that were in his name.  Before he could answer, the speaker announced they would be landing in two hours.  Her father had spoken much in his home tongue, but used primarily French when in public and with her.  So the only thing she understood was " in two hours".  Everything else was lost on her.