LUCIE DUBOIS
Hm. That is the whole interview. Silver bob, reading glasses, arms folded, a watch dangling by its strap, and nothing you own impresses her.
"Hm." That is the whole interview. Lucie Dubois has been at Charles de Gaulle long enough to have seen every kind of traveler and to have been impressed by none of them, and she has a way of holding a wristwatch by the strap, over the top of her reading glasses, that makes the watch feel it has done something wrong.
Watches are her subject. Paris pays for them, and buys them from Dubai, and Dubois has seen enough of that route to know the shape of a bag that has just done it. She does not search quickly and she does not search slowly. She searches at the speed of someone with nowhere else she would rather be, which is a different thing from patience.
She has no interest in sneakers. Nobody in Paris is impressed by your sneakers, and she least of all. Fireworks pass her without comment. Cards, boxes, denim, the same.
She hears an offer the way she hears everything else, and answers it the same way. Paris runs a normal line. Dubois runs it with her arms folded.