Nails and lips were also red, everything in the same nuance. The long hair in his own dark blonde colour flowed down over her shoulders in thick waves... His throat was dry as parchment all of a sudden and as he stood again he knew he should have accepted the beer. The guy sitting on the sofa, half turned towards her, wasn’t the ‘dream prince’ every girl hope to meet. No, but he definitely had something to him. When he stood up it was with smooth grace. He filled out his white suit quite well. Francois had recently turned twenty-one and was a real farmer boy. He always looked sloppy and the clothes he wore were generally smeared with earth, grease, or whatever else he encountered during a working day. The jet black hair on his head always looked unkempt and in need of a haircut, and the hair on his face, in sore need of a clipping.Francois was rather crass at times and had a laugh that sounded like a barking seal. His voice was brash and loud, but he was an affable oaf, whom you. More

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