"Hello, is anyone there?"
Jesus, why does Vincent care so much? We heard that scream three days ago. Why does it matter so much to him?
"Go away," Clay replied.
So they heard the scream. They must be raiders, trying to steal his supplies.
"We heard a scream a few days ago and were looking for whoever, um, whatever happened."
Please, Kawa, where are you? I've been searching forever.
Clay didn't know a Kawa, he assumed that this French guy was looking for him and assumed he was looking for whoever Kawa was.
"I'm armed. If you don't leave, I'll make you."
That was a lie. Well, not completely, cause he had a few kitchen knives, but other than that, nadda.
Then a whispered, "Let's just leave him alone," from the British dude.
I'm hungry. Was that a Chick-fil-a down the street?
The French guy responded, "No we already came this far."
I don't know who's in there or what they want, but maybe with them, we'll have a chance. Maybe I'll find him.
"Look, we don't want to hurt you or anything, we just want to know what happened."
Clay realized the two at his door didn't pose much of a threat and seemed like they genuinely didn't want to hurt him, so he decided to let them in. Clay's apartment was decently sized, with enough room for four people to live in comfortably.
"I'm not who you're looking for, but I'll help you," he said after opening the door. Before him stood two guys with glasses. Both had messy brown hair, one with a more boyish face, the other wearing a more serious expression. If he had to guess, the slightly taller one was British, the other was the French guy.
Clay led the two into the apartment.
"I'm Clay," he said, going to the kitchen to grab some water.
Neither of the strangers knew what to do, so Clay struck up his own conversation.
"Anyways, you must be Vincent, and you're . . . George? Pleasure meeting you. Sorry for the rude introduction, I've had a bad experience with strangers. How was your guys' past few months since the power outage? I've been able to read minds. How 'bout you?"
What the hell? Mind reading? Are you reading my mind right now?
That was George, the British guy. He had sat down in a nearby armchair and was looking around.
"Yeah, I am. I don't know how to turn it off."
Oh shit, he can read minds? Hey then, Clay.
And that was Vincent, who was now on the couch.
He heard him mutter something in French.
"Pourquoi est-ce que ça m'arrive. (why the fuck does this happen to me)"
Si je pense qu'en français pouvez-vous me comprende? Lisez-vous mon esprit? (if I think in french, can you understand me? are you reading my mind?)
"Ah, smart, speaking in French. If you were asking if I understood you, I can't," Clay said, plopping down on the couch next to Vincent.
"That's not fair!" protested George.
"Eh, who said it was," was Vincent's reply.
a/n: after reading many fanfics where a6d speaks french and there's no translation so i have to ask in the comments, i present to you, translation in the story