Francois is in his usual place, stretched out on the couch, his laptop on his lap and his hand just reaching for his phone when we come in.
"Oh, hello, you guys, your timing is as always, just impeccable", he says with a very forced, almost manic smile.
"What---" say I but am interrupted by a dismissal wave of his hand.
"Sit down and listen, because I need witnesses."
He marks out some numbers on his phone, and by the loud ringing we can tell he is on speaker phone. "Hello, Father Polonius", he says, his voice tinged with sarcastic laughter.
"Excuse me, that is not my correct name", enunciates an indignant mature male voice, "And whom am I talking to""
"Francois."
"Francois?"
"Bernard..."
"Do we know each other?"
"Father Francois Bernard. Remember me? The little Black Boy..as you used to call me."
"Oh..yes...Father Francois. And what can I do to help you", he says impatiently, and it is already nakedly clear that there is no way that this conversation is going to end well...
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