He pushed Diva's chair in as the girls wished despite the lack of desire to do so, beloved he moved away he leaned down just a hair. Je suis la voix. De l'amour qui ne peut vivre. Pourtant, il ne meurt pas. The girls looked confused, Haji used french when he didn't want them to know. They knew English and Japanese already smart buttons, but no one taught them french. His words were a stanza of her aria. He's heard it more than once. In Vietnam it burned into his mind as much as everything there did. He knew her bloody sad song.

He moved then taking out the other chair, his cello case leaned aside near a wall as the girls still looked confused a moment before smiling at their mom. "whose Nathan?" Oh shit, he'd have to tell Diva, fuck. Nathan wasn't so bad, dramatic but not bad. He didn't protest to her words he simply shrugged. The girls looking over the menu in hushed tones. The devices both their uncle and aunt would have been given upon arrival translated the words for them, but not the french their uncle spoke.

[ooc; I am the voice, Of love that cannot live. Yet it doesn't die.]