Boots hit the floor loudly as they, along with a body ( of course ), traveled down the hallway. A finger came up to gently push the owner's glasses up the bridge of his nose, a low exhale puffing from his lips. It didn't take him long before he was seated in front of a glass window, eyes fixated on a stranger with an orange suit. He could clearly see the inmate even though the glass behind his own head reflected light from the ocean. Honestly, it would be hard for him not to notice the way the other looked...The hot ones were always criminals to him. Ugh - Why was he thinking of something like that now? Pierre shook his head, trying to clear those thoughts from his mind. "'Allo. Let's start wiz zee introduction, no?" Almost immediately did he set down the clipboard with a clatter, un-clicking his pen and setting it next to the plastic object. "You probably know me, but just a wee little reminder for you - I am Pierre Moreau, the son of Monsieur Moreau. I'm sure zat you 'ave 'eard of 'im." The man brought his hand up, splaying his fingers across his chest, placing his palm flat on his sternum. "I know...A lot about you, but it would be nice to 'ear you say it for yourself." The Frenchman cleared his throat and motioned towards the inmate. "So, go on."