She might have got the wrong end of the stick, but that didn't phase the unruly lad. He was too focused on having a good time, and making "his" guest feel welcome, more than anything. She had not offended him in anyway, and in fact he himself was rather annoyed at his odd behaviour, hoping it had not put her off in any way. He'd never really fit in, so weird and random reactions to his mannerisms was nothing out of the ordinary, however, sometimes, he'd try to go out of his way to be "normal". But what was normal? Nothing was normal these days, and nothing could really be classified as such. Such was the nature of the modern world that Frodo lived in. And so he continued to stoop at her level and contradict his own beliefs, making himself calm and still rather than lively and wild.
He'd never heard of Quebec; the boy'd never really listened in the minor geography lessons his elders would have given him. But the name sounded pretty, and he could imagine the place well, and just the word North made his facial area bemused. He loved the cold, as his blood deemed him, and north meant cold and snow and frost. Perhaps she didn't mean that far north, but still, he let his mind get away with him.
Fire. he repeated. The very word burnt his tongue. I'm sorry. if she was upset at all about fire pushing her out of her home, he would attempt at making her feel better of it. Fire burnt and ate and destroyed, and he almost hated its very existance. But that was only when it got out of control. More often than not, fire would be his friend.
Two weeks didn't seem that long a journey from where they were now. Because Frodo himself had travelled years. He'd probably come from a different side of the planet, considering the amount of space he'd covered. He'd gone over seas many a time, so many that he didn't know where he'd started when he'd gone on his journey. If he had a better knowledge of the world, or a map in his possession, he'd know that he had been born in New Zealand. French toast? Ehh... Frodo trailed off, scratching his chin until he remembered he'd just said the very term earlier, and Tayui was, in fact, merely quoting him. It's uh, well, ah'm not too sure myself... thinkin' it's bread, with eh, jam. 'Berry jam, from where the 'coons are. Baked and...or...maybe fried? he didn't know what he was talking about, but maybe, there was a chance it sounded faintly promising. Mother, she used dance an' uh, be speakin' it to me, you follow? he looked up earnestly, hugging his knees. But tha'...tha' was before, before she- he broke off nervously, his mind going blank as he mentally begged Tayui to change the subject.
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