Noémie jolted a little as Yakumo approached her, fingertips lowering from her mouth to her chest to calm her frantic heart. She smiled peacefully at the man beside her - albiet she was quite unsure how he managed to just sneak up on her like that...perhaps because Noémie herself was too busy staring in awe at the school. [i]"P-Parlez-vous--...ah, erh, English? Okay, I will speak English."("D-do you speak--")[/i] stammered the lady, looking more than a little flustered by Yakumo's rude greeting, and equally as offended, as her white brows creased together in indignation.

[i]"I just got 'ere, so...have not had much time to put away my objects."[/i] replied Noémie. There was a distinct, heavy French accent which explained the strange conversational pattern - but the way she spoke was quite intriguing. Each syllable and word seemed to trail up and down passionately, emotion punctuating each and every sentence. It was something that was easier to listen to than, for example, the monotonous drone of Synn.

Her black gaze slipped to the students again; she noticed a few of the students looking at her. Cheerily, she met their curious gazes with a polite little smile and bow of her head; the mannerisms in her silent greetings seemed to echo that of a porcelain doll more than a human, in terms of fragility and grace. The word 'delicate' seemed to echo in most of her actions, movements and looks; everything aside from her speech, which was powerful and self-assured (despite the language barrier.)

[i]"My name is Noémie, Monsieur. And you are...?"[/i] asked Noémie curiously, focusing her darkened irises curiously onto Yakumo himself. He seemed to be the anti-thesis of Noémie - bright, colourful and not at all polite, almost head-strong to the point of arrogance. It would be very interesting indeed if the pair of them became friends, and Noémie didn't want to make enemies in this place...