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A sudden noise and a body seemingly apparated from nowhere had Basile quite nearly leaping out of his skin. With a startled yelp, the Bluetooth speaker he was carrying flew from his hand, fumbling about just out of grasp before he finally found purchase, clutching it firmly to his chest. "Wh-what the hell?" Utterly bewildered and panting lightly, the redhead watched as the girl darted away, startled mind sluggish to keep up. "I- Okay... Then. Right." Basile rotated back towards his room, brow furrowed and blinking slowly.
As he was in the motion of placing down his speaker, the booming clap of a door being thrown nearly off its hinges sent it once more into flight before being crushed against his sternum. The ginger, frozen and hunched over his catch, whipped his head towards the entrance. Basile found himself blinking at what could only be described as a tiger of a woman. Her upper lip seemed to curl away from sharp canines, a growl ready to rip through her throat. Basile gulped. But before he could wrap his frayed wits about him, the woman stomped away. He flinched back as the door slammed behind her.
Just as he began to ease back into a sense of relative safety, the door swung open once again, the fierce women prowling closer. She moved past him, however, and Basile allowed himself to breathe.
Realizing he was still clutching the speaker in a vicelike grip, Basile relaxed his arms and gingerly set it on the dresser.
The ginger watched as what he could only assume to be his roomate unpacked. He waited a beat or two before clearing his throat, not used to being ignored. Choking down his sense of unease and throwing on one of his most winning and irresistibly charming smiles, Basile stuck out his hand. "Hello, you must be mademoiselle Santos. I'm Basile Roux. It's a pleasure." His English was heavily accented, but he'd never go about fixing it. It drove women mad. "Did you take a flight from Spain? No, no you look much too terrible for such a short flight..." The ginger removed his outreaching hand and thumbed his lower lip in thought, "Ah! It was Mexico, oui?"
As he was in the motion of placing down his speaker, the booming clap of a door being thrown nearly off its hinges sent it once more into flight before being crushed against his sternum. The ginger, frozen and hunched over his catch, whipped his head towards the entrance. Basile found himself blinking at what could only be described as a tiger of a woman. Her upper lip seemed to curl away from sharp canines, a growl ready to rip through her throat. Basile gulped. But before he could wrap his frayed wits about him, the woman stomped away. He flinched back as the door slammed behind her.
Just as he began to ease back into a sense of relative safety, the door swung open once again, the fierce women prowling closer. She moved past him, however, and Basile allowed himself to breathe.
Realizing he was still clutching the speaker in a vicelike grip, Basile relaxed his arms and gingerly set it on the dresser.
The ginger watched as what he could only assume to be his roomate unpacked. He waited a beat or two before clearing his throat, not used to being ignored. Choking down his sense of unease and throwing on one of his most winning and irresistibly charming smiles, Basile stuck out his hand. "Hello, you must be mademoiselle Santos. I'm Basile Roux. It's a pleasure." His English was heavily accented, but he'd never go about fixing it. It drove women mad. "Did you take a flight from Spain? No, no you look much too terrible for such a short flight..." The ginger removed his outreaching hand and thumbed his lower lip in thought, "Ah! It was Mexico, oui?"