Julien got it anyway. It was a robot thing. He had a terrific robot accent.
My journey to the savage heart of French culture was well underway.
Now, we were to greet each other—whispering, so no one could cheat—by name. Whrookay.
Stage actors need perfect elocution.
“WHRROA-kay,” he said. “Now, walk in a paranoid spirit.”
I mention all this prefatory to the story of enrolling myself in French acting lessons.