No Need To Pretend To Be French

 Kingscote.

Arthur is in the supermarket, looking at lettuces.

Someone comes up behind him.

Arthur! Hello!

It's Kierkegaard with Angelina. They are shopping as well.

This is Angelina, says Kierkegaard. We're holidaying together.

Nice one, says Arthur. 

You must be Arthur, says Angelina. Are you here with Gaius?

Yes, says Arthur. But he's still on the road. I've come on ahead to buy lettuces.

That seems an odd mission, says Angelina.

For indigestion, says Arthur.

Poor you, says Angelina. Try drinking peppermint tea.

Not me, him, says Arthur. He specified lettuces. They have special properties.

Really? says Angelina. She picks up a lettuce. What are they?

I wouldn't know, says Arthur. I imagine they aid the digestion. 

He picks up a cos, a butter lettuce, and a radiccio.

Angelina darts away and comes back with a packet of peppermint tea.

Tell him to try this too, says Angelina.

Thanks, says Arthur, stuffing everything into his back pack.

At the checkout, he hums Under the Sea.

Jacques Cousteau! says the checkout lady. How well you're looking! No charge for you. Have a nice day!

Merci beaucoup! says Arthur, who doesn't need to pretend to be French.

He is French, although he is not Jacques Cousteau.

Perhaps the checkout lady knows this, but remembers Arthur from four years ago, the first time he visited Kangaroo Island and was not Jacques Cousteau.

I don't think he had to pay, says Angelina, who has been watching. 

He leads a charmed life, says Kierkegaard. 

We should have given him some of our more expensive items, says Angelina.

Kierkegaard hopes she is joking. 

That would have been morally wrong.