Amira’s mother and her two daughters looked so much alike, the person would be blind or insane to believe they were unrelated. Xavier was neither. She welcomed him in with a smile that seemed genuine and he almost forgot what had happened with Djamel - keyword here being almost.
“Hello,” she drawled sweetly, “you must be Xavier!”
She was so open, so like Amira, he felt immediately fond of her.
“Hey,” he said, “yes, I am. How are you doing, madam?”
“Oh, please don’t make me feel like an old hag…” she trailed off, looking pensive and he wondered what the problem was, “is that even the correct term, silly?” She groaned.
He had to resist the urge to smile at her behavior. She was an air-head, much like his mom. He could see it from a mile away.
“Misses El-Habachi then?” He teased.
