Swiftcurrent Creek pont neuf

Her admittance confirmed his doubts, but rather than lose his mind over it, Renoir looked around at the trees and flowers; they had lost their beauty for a split second, as he wondered if perhaps they held more secrets than he'd like to believe. Maybe they were being watched right now by some ruffians, and he would have to defend this poor girl's honor! But the thought was fleeting at best, and filtered out of his vapid mind soon enough. His brief glances appeared to be just that - but then he settled his blue eyes upon the girl, and tried to cheer her up with another smile.

'Ou are not alone now, I am 'ere. He was more pomp and flounce than anything though, and would hardly stand up in a fight. Knowing this about himself, Renoir knew just as well that offering his services might be more of a hindrance than a boon. He still wished to ease her mind though, the poor little flame. So he sucked in a deep breath and puffed out his chest, raising his head to a lofty spot - the way he used to entertain Monet during her night terrors - and took on the appearance of a popped kernel of corn. He held his breath for added effect, but it slowly leaked from him as he stated: And mwen will protect you!

Fizzle, fizzle, gasp - his head did not stay up for long (phrasing), as suddenly it was bowed and he was utterly deflated, gasping for air between a light rain of chuckles.