Julien sat down next to Isadora on the grass, dewey from the early morning. He wrapped his velvet cloak around her shivering shoulders, and saw her draw the fabric closely around her. The rich cloak seemed to change her bearing. She drew her shoulders back, composed her face, and looked up at him for the first time.
He smiled at her. His wavy golden hair shone in the sunlight, and his face was that of one who had never felt hardship. But his smile was what drew Isadora in. "Are you alright?" he asked.
Isadora nodded. She couldn't speak. Her throat was tight with tears.
Julien cocked an eyebrow.
She shook her head. "No, I'm -- I'm not alright."
"Would you like to tell me about it?" She shook her head again. "It's okay. I won't hurt you, I promise." He stood, brushed his damp hands off on his power-blue jacket, and offered a hand to her.
"Honestly, I only want to help you," he said, lips twitching upward into his dazzling smile once more.
"There is... something you can do for me," she said slowly. "I need to find a friend."
She took his hand in hers.