Stavanger Bay with a crash

He doesn't quite smile, but a faint glow of recognition warms up his gaze. "My mother did as well, though I don't remember so clearly which ones." The man thought for a minute, recalling the sounds of his childhood. He hummed. "Au clair de la lune.." Étoille was - perhaps pleased was too strong a word, but something close to that, seeing the woman shift from fear to curiosity. 

Even so, her question bothered him. "Ah," he said, unsure. "I did as a child. But after a while.. je ne sais pas. I did not have occasion to use it, and so I began to forget." Truthfully he'd never seen this as a sad event. He had never been a family-driven creature; he'd left home of his own accord at a young age and was not sure he'd ever really.. missed his mother. Perhaps that in itself was sad. "I have not encountered many - any - who've spoken it since." His gaze turned onto her once more, curious himself. "Are you fluent?"