“Oui.” Nodding, he smiles at Carmen and waves to the camera like he’s the goddamn Queen of England. He ruffles his dark hair, then tugs sharply on the lapel of his black suit. “I was once fucked by a puck.” Pure. Unforgiving. Silence. Blinking slowly, I lean my weight forward and lift one finger in the air. My mouth opens. Closes. Parts halfway. I mean, really, I’ve got no words here. “Henri, man, I—” My fingers curl in a fist that I bounce on my knee, once, twice. “I’m sorry, did you say that you were fucked by a puck?”
