[ He's been awake for some time now, in the fading in betweens of sleep and consciousness. His lashes flutter as the dream of a short haired princess dies on a breath, a beautiful girl with short hair placing her fingers in his. Her beauty slips from his mind as their fingers part in a haze of light, and he sits up, glancing around as his vision is swept with images of a booth, a couch, a window, and the scrolling of scenery in the background. ]

Qu'est-ce que c'est...? [ A hand reaches up to brush through his hair as he blinks and glances around. ] I could not have been this drunk. It is not possible.

[ Raising a brow, he stretches his arms out and yawns, ignoring the queasy feeling settling in the base of his stomach. He's used to nausea. ] Well then. [ He stands. ] Ra-ku-ah. I do not think I know of a 'Rakuen City'... perhaps it is a city in Japon... [ Strands of hair are pushed behind his ear as he glances around him. ] Because I know this is certainly not France.