[The humming peters out as he hears his name--his name, not his human name or anyone else's name for him, and damned well not "the Duchy of Warsaw." He turns, and his mouth opens a little bit in recognition. For all the millions of people who have been a part of him, there are some he can never forget. And of all those... He stands up, dropping his pen and paper, smiling warmly.]
Oh my God, Fryderyk? God, get out, what are you doing in a dump like this? How's France treating you?
[It's really good to see a familiar face, and that much more so for one of his best and brightest, who'd spent too long already away from his side.]
There is nothing to forgive.
Oh my God, Fryderyk? God, get out, what are you doing in a dump like this? How's France treating you?
[It's really good to see a familiar face, and that much more so for one of his best and brightest, who'd spent too long already away from his side.]