Everette was surprised when he opened his eyes that he was not a bloody mess, and in fact was saved by the music connoisseur from earlier. Even though Everette should have been thrilled to have his face intact, his heart sunk when he realized the man could not have seen where he put a few on their asses and had to have only seen the part where he was put on his ass. Regardless he was thankful.
“You ever live in a big city, kid? Too many of these goons to count. Don't walk around without one of these knives close to my side, but it’s saved me a couple of times.”
Everette was not surprised the man was French, but slightly relieved since Everette had fought alongside the French and he was of sorts sick of Englishmen at the moment.
“I actually spent time in Indianapolis and Chicago. I took a summer or two in Long Island, but I assure that was hardly a city. I suppose I just never kept the company of their likes,” said Everette conversationally, now holding his cheek from where the man’s punch landed.
Everette thought of at least pointing out the fact that a few were dealt of on his part; mostly to point out that Americans or him personally were not that weak. However, he thought it futile and trivial, so instead he thought he would strike up a friendly conversation with the man.
“Why don’t you walk with me and tell me your origin. I am going to check on the lady, Dod I think, but I would enjoy your company and a man such as yourself could no doubt cheer her up,” inquired Everette as he adjusted his vest. He was dressed relatively nicely, but everything about his outfit was ruffled and crinkled now, loosely fitting in a casual manner, but Everette decided he did not mind it that much.