[Salone]

"It's your hair, mate. Just your hair." Isaac gave a sidelong look at the youth before his eyes caught a much more...pleasant spectacle. Completely abandoning the young man and the murderous priest, he made his way over to the French woman who had entered. He produced a Curly Wurly from his bag with a flourish, giving her a devilish grin as he offered it to her.

"Can I offer you a...Curly Wurly? And speaking of sweets, what's a sweet young thing like you doing in a war like this?"

He spoke in a breathy tone, not nearly coming off as suave as he imagined he was.