Father guided my journey out of the house to an unexpected halt, the sense of his grasp fixated on my shoulder. His fingers tightened around the bones, compressing them in the expectation of them bending like rubber. "What was he so worried about?" I still wonder. Reasonably he heard my footfalls from the hallway? Even so, that man would never leave the comfort of his office, not if my life depended on him doing so.

"Francine, où vas-tu avec ce panier?"

I scowled in defiance of his tongue. I've never had the desire to speak French but considering France was Father's home country he'd been determined to teach me all about it when I was young. To impress him, I learned the language when Charlotte didn't.

She wished to keep her British accent and English slang. I don't blame her. I craved the same for myself. When your Daddy's little girl things have to be done to keep the balance, even if it means changing the way your words come from your mouth.

His salt and pepper bristled hair may have been slickly brushed back, his shining scalp visible through white locks still to his dismay. His beard, short and beginning to curl, seemed scraggly and in need of slight combing- If not a trip to the barber. He wore a white button-down shirt underneath a beige vest and black tie, a pencil behind his ear and his half-moon glasses slipping from his purple nose.

He looked down at me sternly, his brown eyes narrowed and forehead wrinkled.

I checked my breathing for a moment before holding the basket over his large fingers for him to see, shawl hanging around me from my shoulders.

I answer with honesty, raisin-cinnamon swirled bread still piping hot from our newly furnished gas oven, its scent wafting into both of our noses.

"Je vais en ville; I'm dropping off some snacks for a woman I met the other day. She and I are going to chat over some tea; Nous prenons le thé et je serai bientôt de retour à la maison."

He sniffed the air around the basket, a small smile on his face as his brows slowly relaxed and his mood seemed to lighten a bit. He spoke in a tone I hadn't heard since marrying Dean. My heart began to ache in the midst of its frost.

Though he was silent, I could overhear his brain crying words I'd been denied access to ever meeting. I smile, delighted to see him the way he used to be. "Muffet isn't here today, and Grillby is in his tavern. Who else made this wonderful treasure?"

He shook his head as I opened the basket for him to have another whiff, his eyes now glossing over in nostalgia as he gazed upon the lavish loaf.

I chuckle. "There's extra butter melted on top, and I know you like it best that way."

"Come now, arrête d'être égoïste, enough with this tomfoolery and give me a slice, would you?"

Without flinching or rolling my eyes, I reach into the basket and pull out a steaming wedge, the biggest I could find. I pressed the bread into my Father's open palm gingerly and gave him a single nod. "Je serai bientôt de retour à la maison."

"So be it. Until then, I will be near the shed. Au revoir."

"Au revoir," I kindly responded, pretending not to be resentful towards him. If I don't then will surely be in a terrible mood when I return home.

"Au revoir, Francine."

His tone sounded a bit lighter, more pippy and cheerful. I suppose kissing up isn't so bad as I always thought.

On my way down the sidewalk, I take a quick glance towards the wooden tool shed. To my wonder, an emaciated hand was scarcely wriggling through a large crevice between two splintered planks. It clawed away at the snow just in its reach, not a single flake melted. He must be so cold in that place.

Shaking my head, I reminded myself that he's there until Father decides otherwise. He isn't any of my concern right now. What I need to do is carry on towards town.

I spin on my heel and begin to stride through the ice beneath me, careful with every step and assuring myself that I won't slip. It'd be a shame if I broke something or worse- wouldn't it...?

The walk wasn't too far across the way, I soon learned, and the wind wasn't blowing too much. All in all, my stroll was nowhere near as risky as I'd presumed it to have been.

When approaching the address, I forget to smile for my host when she turns the shiny door handle.

Her paws ushered me inside, not thinking to greet me or ask how I was walking out in a dress. At the time I couldn't register why she was so quick to take me in until I gave it more thought. She was hiding me from either one of two things;

One: being seen with a monster that isn't yours can result in rumors and uprising conflict.

Two: I had my oxygen tank with me, she must have suspected me to be a lunger and panicked. If this was the case, then she's one of few who has ever done so.

"Come into the parlor, Young Child. It's comfortable there, and you can thaw yourself out."

The goat women whispers from behind me, rubbing my shoulders then up and down my arms.

"Pardon?"

"The den and living area, my dear." She chuckled, her voice cooing me into doing as she told.

I welcome the lifting of my shawl from my shoulders, the same smell from our first encounter filling my nostrils like fire, burning away at my nose hairs with the strong will of cinnamon dollops and butterscotch candies I haven't sucked on since I was a little girl. I taste delighted as it blends with forlorn memories from long ago, each having the consistency of thick, flaky dust.

I'm escorted to a much warmer room. There, a fire was burning in an even wider fireplace. Amongst its hearth swayed ribbons and golden flowers. The way each of the petals glistened caught my wandering eyes like moths to a lantern, and I slowly but surely trudged towards them.

I hesitantly set down my bag and rotated the bread to hand from my other arm. This allowed my dominant hand to shakily stroke one of the flowers' fluffed center while waiting for Miss Toriel to come back once more.

When we were both seated, Toriel poured some steamy liquid into a small teacup. She nods to it, indicating for me to drink some. She tells me it will help to warm me up.

Faint lemongrass mixed with sugar and cinnamon lingered on my tongue throughout our conversation.

"You'll need to loan me this recipe, Child. It's heavenly!" she complimented, her eyes smiling from her cheekbones. She smiled genuinely for me.

I thank her back politely "I'll see what can be done, Ma'am. I'm happy you enjoyed it." I lied, telling her there wasn't any more left. Little did she know- at the very bottom of my basket remained a consequential slice. I was saving it for later.

I examine the way her enormous paws hold her cup; Her pointer finger was just thin enough to slip between the handle and the clay surface of the cup, keeping it airborne as her she-goat lips pressed against its side. They part to let hot tea into her mouth, a faint slurp sounding behind.

Moments of gentle silence pass with ease before Miss Toriel closed her eyes, gingerly placing her teacup on the table. When they opened once more, I could detect solemn in their gaze.

"Tell me, Miss King... Why do you need such a contraption?..."

She shifted her look to my bag, the one holding my oxygen. "You haven't caught on to the plague... Have you, child?"

A part of me is hesitant to respond, but then the majority of my being has lost that sense of feeling. It took over the words that flew from my mouth.

"No Ma'am. It isn't the White Plague."

She addressed her attention back up to me, concerned.

"How can you be sure?"

I pause. "Because I was tested... It isn't Tuberculosis, but what I have hasn't been researched until recently." I take one last sip of tea. "We aren't sure as to what this is."

"I don't understand how you can be so composed about such matters, Francine." Toriel sighed sadly. Her ears seemed to droop and draw back some. I felt one of her fingers graze mine before I pulled away. I don't need her or anyone to fret over me.

"Please, don't look into it. I wish not to worry you over something no one can help."

The monster woman nods in understanding. "Yes, of course... Let us move on, shall we?"

I nod, feeling a heavier weight on my shoulders despite avoiding an unwanted topic. 

(Thats right, I know some french >:3 

Jk I used google.... I could never lie to you guys.)