Roots. - Naeun & Olivier
Seoul was a huge, technology advanced metropolis. It was great, in the least, for someone with a profession like Olivier. As much as he's gotten used to the city life Seoul had, he had to admit that he was hopelessly homesick. He would visit a french restaurant, or somewhat close to a french restaurant. Restaurants in their own homeland were obviously more genuine to the taste rather than a specific food restaurant overseas, made by someone not native from the restaurant's. But he needed anything that could somewhat make him feel at home.
He wore something casual that night, a long sleeved dark red nicely knitt sweater and some black tight jeans and some nice tall sneakers. He grabbed his wallet and licked his lips while setting the alarm on before closing the door and heading out the building. Calling out for a cab to take him to the better french restaurant in town.
Once he arrived, he asked for a table for himself and shoved his hands in his pockets as he went to his assigned table. He grabbed the menu, scanning through all the items, before looking around at the people, noticing a girl with a bit of a distinctive fashion, but maybe it was just him. He looked down at the menu but peeked at her once again, before his phone vibrated and he picked up.
"Bonjour?" He answered, noticing it was not a local phone number and he let out a soft laugh, continuing his conversation in french with his old psychologist who'd he'd been been seeing for years before moving to Seoul.
