Spanish Lessons [PARAGRAPH]

((OOC: Jumping in 'cause neither of you are posting U8 Ahaha~))


It would be somehow slightly ironic, perhaps, to anyone whom possessed the mindset of thinking over things enough to 'read between lines' and find said irony... But Andorra was always much the opposite.

She was seated at a table on the terrace of a rather expensive-looking café – one of tables and chairs of black and chrome, sparsely filled at that time of the day (there were three rather posh-looking women, huddled together at a far table behind mountains of boldly coloured shopping bags, holding a conversation over rounded cups of cappuccino that the small nation, had she wanted to listen in, would not have been able to hear; but apart from that, it was actually empty). Blending in with humans happened to be a forté of hers; mostly unintentionally, however... And donned in a chartreuse-yellow spring dress, her long, mahogany hair tied in a plait over her shoulder, she seemed to be blending into the general public without even trying (or indeed, knowing). Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of large wrap around sunglasses, and her attention was downwards, towards the smartphone in her hand that she was gently tapping the screen of.

None of the passers by, the humans that never gave her a second glance, would have suspected – with good reason – that this girl was, in fact, 'la Principat d'Andorra'. Of course, though this wasn't on her mind at the time, if it had been, she wouldn't have minded.

It was merely moments after the waiter had placed a tall, rather elegantly presented glass of lemonade in front of her, and she had looked up and had told him in her quiet tone of voice "thank you", that the irony happened. Her gaze had returned to the phone screen, and just as she was about to continue inputting her text message, the breeze tossed a piece of paper from down the street up and into her lap, covering her hands and the phone.

Her immediate reaction was simply to blink.

It took her a few moments to take in the garish patterns of the paper, and a few more moments after that to realise what exactly it was – a flyer that had come loose; the piece of tape that had previously adhered it to something hanging off the top edge. And it was only after she had idly slid her phone onto the table and taken the sheet in her left hand that she then took off her sunglasses so that she could decipher the bold scrawls and colours, only to see a familiar face on the paper amongst them.

Andorra (or perhaps in this instance, as she was subconciously congregating with humans, 'Amália') reacted the same as she usually would – that is to say, not very much. She simply thought it odd, having managed to read the whole thing through – after taking about five minutes to do so, squinting all the while – that Spain had the time to provide 'free Spanish lessons', particularly if they were indeed free... And though the fact would never have crossed her mind, had she been any other nation, she would have found it suspicious.

And so she placed the flyer beneath her lemonade glass to weigh it down, and picked her phone back up, resuming her message from before... And the simple irony being that, though there was a phone in her hand, and a photocopied number there in front of her, waiting – wanting – to be called (and likely already in her phone memory, somewhere), she wasn't going to do so...