Dean was sat behind his desk, a document for work in English on one side and a second, half-complete under his quill has he translated into French. He mumbled under his breath in the same language, hardly aware he was doing it. He was halfway through his second glass of whiskey, trying multiple ways to keep his mind busy and to tire himself out so he could go upstairs and pass out shortly. Unfortunately for him, he could oscillate between the two languages he'd grown up speaking without much thought, so it wasn't working as well as he would have hoped. He was definitely going to have to proof read the second document tomorrow once he got to work, but he was getting the gist of it for now.

He took a swig of the whiskey, running the same hand through his hair after he set it down. His quill kept scratching (he really was going to have to do a cleaner version of this tomorrow, this was bad, even for him) even as Don Juan appeared in the doorway. He held up a hand for a moment, finishing the sentence he was halfway through before setting down the quill. "Non," he sighed, and because his brain was still in French, started the sentence first in French before he caught himself, "I leave for Paris that afternoon for my cousin's wedding." He was pretty sure he'd mentioned it more than once, but he couldn't pretend to know if anything he mentioned, things that didn't directly involve Don Juan, were even registered. "I'll be back Sunday night."