He offered to take her hand and kiss in greeting, "Mine as well."
You used to be the King of France, but you might as well be Hades now. (Old French royalty/romance/anarchy and REVOLUTION!!)
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Charolette gave her hand willingly, “Let’s go do something fun.”
His eyes widened slightly. "Like… What?"
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“Like…stealing pastries from the kitchen? Or sneaking into places we shouldn’t.” She bit her bottom lip.
He smiled nervously. "I know where the pastries are."
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Charolette returned it coyly, “Let’s do it.”
He half laughed, "Madame, I have never stolen in my life.."
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“There’s always room in life for firsts!” She grabbed his hand to drag him down the hallway, “Where are the pastries?”
He blinked, dazed, "I-In a specialized pantry. A room branching off the kitchen,"
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She paused to let him take the lead, “I’ll just follow you, m’kay?”
"Do—" Peter laughed, "You want me to go fast?" There was a certain enchantment about her playful haste.
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She shrugged, “Whatever, I don’t care. I’m just excited,” she giggled.
He turned and began to sprint. Obviously this had to be some hobby of his. I mean, look at those legs.
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Charolette squealed with excitement, chasing after him, “Wait! Not that fast!” She gathered her skirts to run faster, “I’m in heels!”
He giggled insidiously, "Then take them off!" He called, taking an ubrupt turn. But he stopped, just around the wide pillar to wait for the lady. He was a gentleman after all.
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She leaned against the wall to lift each foot one after the other unbuckling her shoes. She tossed them aside and ran to catch up with him, “Much better!”
He peered round the pillar, "Excellent, Ms. Charlotte,"
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“Let’s hurry before they’re all gone, already!” She continued running down the hallway.
He caught up easily with her, his slaty eyes narrowed with focus.
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Charolette let him take the lead again because she didn’t know where the pastries were held. But hopefully, if all went well, in a few years this would be her home too.
He began to slow down into a gentle sneak, biting his lip. "We can't let the maids spot us…"
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Charolette crept beside him, “How many maids are there?” She whispered.
"Thirty-three, but they spread out," he answered, "Now we just listen to see if there's any in the kitchen,"
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Charolette finally shut her mouth to listen for any footsteps in the kitchen, “I don’t hear any, I think.” She whispered excitedly.
Peter edged his way around the corner, "Ah yes, c'mon!"
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Charolette took off behind him, giggling all the way there.
He scampered to the pantry, opening the thin door. The pantry itself could have been a house for a peasant. Dim, and huge. He ran to the back, where the pastries were stored in wrapped cheesecloths for preservation.
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Charolette closed the door behind her so they wouldn’t be seen, “What’s in there?”
The light that seeped through the door slats provided their only light. "Everything," he giggled, "Except meats and cheeses, those are kept in the cellar,"
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“Yum, give me something chocolate,” she rested a hand on one of the wooden shelves to steady herself.