Bisous | Kylian Mbappé

3 | PSG

"But surely that's not legal."

One street from their goal with fashionable footwear, Kylian and Flynn have spent the past 10 minutes since their departure from Carrefour in all things football. Apparently training up to 30 hours a week is normal in Kylian's world.

"It is!" He counters, hooking his arm around Flynn's, "You like looking at skeleton's, I like training my ass-off, we all have our quirks."

Flynn shakes her head playfully, and takes another swing from the wine, "That can't be healthy, the wear on your joints must be insane."

"Think about it from a non-biological point of view," Kylian swings their arms, "Sure I could train less and be good, but when you think about every player doing the exact same thing, I have to do more, joints be damned."

Flynn stares at him.

"We have good medical teams that take care of us, don't you worry."

"I'm worried for when you're 60 and have knee issues."

Kylian shrugs, and takes the bottle, "I won't be playing when I'm 60 so who cares. Besides, I know many older players who are still active now."

Instead of responding, Flynn notices the street only a few steps from them, "Look, we're here!"

Making their way up, Kylian points at the main street's sign and rolls his eyes, "Ma chérie, you did this on purpose."

Flynn reads the Boulevard Saint-Germain road sign evenly, "I brought you to a large boulevard with lots of food places on purpose? Obviously."

"You brought me to Saint-Germain purposely." He turns back to Flynn who's eyebrows are drawn.

"I'm so lost."

Kylian dramatically points from the sign to himself, "You know I play for PSG right?"

"No?"

"You're serious," Now he's flailing, "You just so happened to bring me to the road that goes with my team?"

"Sorry 'bout your ego but how would I know you played for them?" She huff's, "I don't even know what PSG stands for!"

"Paris-Saint-Germain!"

Flynn catches Kylian's eyes head on, staring each other down. The audacity this man has to believe she already knows stuff about him as if she wasn't asking what Parc des Princes was not even 20 minutes ago. She kinda loves it.

The break into laughter.

"It's literally the closest main road from Presko's! Why would I do that on purpose?"

Kylian's cackling is slowing, "To be funny?"

"Yes, yes, I'm so hilarious for wanting to get food conveniently."

The pair make their way along the boulevard and finish the wine, throwing the bottle in a recycling bin. Luckily the road's quite empty since their aren't many pubs and clubs in this area, they've only been honked or shouted at thrice. After crossing the intersection with Boulevard Raspail, Flynn spots a corner restaurant with lights on and a few stragglers.

Marching their way up to the cozy, dimmed light, oak-walls restaurant, Flynn asks if they're still serving food.

"Désolé madame, la cuisine se ferme jusqu'a trois heure."

Flynn checks her phone to see its 2:56 am as Kylian rounds beside her, "Monsieur, s'il vous plaît jus un petit entrée? Il n'y a pas d'autres endroits ouvert!"