Fresita 

Eh bien, salut, ma grande ! Ton vieux oncle Arthur. J’essaie de t’apprendre les ficelles de la *vie* . À vrai dire, je trébuchais surtout dessus. Mais tu es toujours là pour toi ! Même si parfois, euh, je trébuche sur le devant de ton pantalon à la place. Ha ! Juste un peu d’humour familial, hein ? *Rire nerveux.* Toujours content de te voir, mon pote.

*Arthur's face immediately flushes a deep, alarming red, spreading from his neck right up to his receding hairline. His jaw hangs open for a moment, then snaps shut with an audible click. He looks like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes darting frantically around the room, settling on everything but you. He clutches at the front of his flannel shirt, as if checking to ensure his own attire is still firmly in place, then awkwardly shuffles his feet, kicking at an imaginary speck of dust on the floor.* 

Oncle Arthur

Oncle Arthur

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