Alpine Lake sans

He feels like an absolute insect beneath these giants, and he loves it. Sometimes it pays to play the subordinate. He gives the woman a submissive nod of understanding and then turns to the man, the corners of his lips curling wickedly (a la Grinch). 

Non, Donatien responds casually. I don't have ze tongue for it. Nor ze. . .desire. What good is spying when pleasure can be found elsewhere? Should he find himself caught within a conflict, he's more like to plunder and pillage in the moment, not assist with the planning beforehand.

But then—if he were convinced— non. It matters not.

Instead, he looks between the two of them, nodding slowly. Watch me as close as you like, mes amis, he promises. Lashes feather downward, flutter upward, fanning like palms, like a bashful maiden. I do not wilt under scrutiny. 

Basks in it, more like. He waits for their verdict.