Oakley's smile faded a little as her brain went into overdrive. Wait, she hadn't spoken any Spanish directly to this guy. How did he know she could speak it? And why did he ask specifically for the south of France? At first, she figured she had some kind of accent (did different parts of France have different accents? She didn't know) but this guy could barely put together a sentence, let alone tell the difference between a northern and southern accent. Who was this guy? Oh... oh no. This guy had been following her, that was definitely it. He has saw what had happened in her school via the security cameras and had followed her to England and had been watching her the past few days. He knew her "power", he was going to kidnap her or something and take her away from somewhere and stick her on a table and pull the plates off, one by one. As her mind raced through the possibilities, her heart rate sped up and her arm started to burn. Her left hand immediately grabbed her right forearm and she gasped a little. Oakley, Oakley, breathe! Calm down, calm down. Maybe it was all just an honest coincidence!
She managed to slow her heart down with some long breaths, letting go of her forearm. She could feel her arm pressing against the cast; another freak out and she surely would break the cast, or at least make it crack. She had to make sure that didn't happen, though her track record wasn't so great so far.
"How do you know I speak Spanish?" she said, putting her obviously fake smile back on. She ignored the presence of the Christian person, only noticing that he had the faintest smell of smoke lingering around him. Gross, what was he, a bum? A cleaner? Ugh.
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