Ledger deMane’s ears perked as the doorbell rang. But the maid had already answered it. Still, he pressed his ear to the wall. He’d paid good money for her, yet she’d been little but trouble and had somehow picked up much of the fashion trade disturbingly quickly. He’d even brought to his new boutique opening in her homeland, though she wasn’t allowed out of the condo.
“Danke,” her muffled voice said. “Es ist Gift?”
When the door closed, he stepped into the hall. “What’s that, Photo Finish?”
The teenager cast her eyes down and handed it to him. A box of chocolates. She’d finally warmed up to him.
“‘Gift’ must be the same in both languages!” He tasted a cherry cordial. Quite good! He shoved three more in his mouth, but… the room rippled and turned dreadfully hot.
Finish loomed over him. “Nein, Herr deMane. In Germaney, ‘Gift’ means ‘poison.’”
Yeah. That happened. Don't know why it happened but it hampered.
With a name like "Ledger deMane," I'm sure he was up to something.
But yeah, false cognates can be nasty.
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I've used that name in several stories now. It just works too well. Though I think I did originally borrow it from someone else.