I looked down at my glass then his, seeing the tattoos on the backs of his fingers, Roman numerals. It started off at I on his pinkie and then made its way to V on his thumb. Both of his hands were that way. “What do the Roman numerals mean?” I lifted my gaze to his eyes.
He didn’t look down at his hands to check what I meant. “The Fifth Republic.”
My eyes searched his for more information.
“The second-longest reigning political system in France—our current political system.”
I stared at his ink for another moment before I looked at him again. “And why is that important to you?”
He stared at me for a long time, his fingers resting on top of his glass. “Because that is the Republic that I serve.”
I’d been submerged in a depression that was colder than the Arctic, but my head popped ou
