While inspired by real-life events, this series is a work of fiction.
All personal circumstances are purely fictional.
NOVEMBER 13, 2015
-[alarm bleeps] -[sharp inhaling]
[sighing]
[grunting]
[sighing]
[yawning]
[muffled rock music plays]
[music: "Dancing with myself" by the Donnas]
THE CONFIDANTE
[football fans chant on TV]
Hi.
Arnaud?
ARNAUD: Hi.
-Hi! -Sorry, Chris.
I need to finish this message.
Go ahead. I don't mind.
How are you?
-I'm fine and you? -Don't settle in. I'm done.
Excuse me! [clears throat]
I'll pay and we go.
[chuckles nervously]
Where are we going?
My place. I live next door.
OK. Um...
[chuckles nervously]
I wouldn't mind a drink first.
What? You don't like me?
I don't know. I don't know you.
It's just...
OK. No problem.
Good night.
[receding footsteps]
[chattering and laughter]
Would you like something to drink?
[stutters] Yes, I would. Do you have any champagne by the glass?
Yes.
Thank you.
[fans chant on TV]
Excuse me, sir.
Uh, could you look after my things?
Because I have to go and buy some cigarettes.
I can keep your bag for you, in the meantime.
-Yes, please. -It's safer.
Yeah.
And could you bring me another glass?
-Yes. -I'll be right back.
[distant booming]
[distant siren blares]
-[indistinct chattering] -[sirens blare]
COP: Everyone, please! The road has been blocked off!
Please turn around and take the subway.
No, sir, turn around and take the subway, will you, please?
MAN 1: Excuse me. What's going on?
MAN 2: No idea.
[pants softly]
MAN 1: Can you hear me?
MAN 2: Are they still there?
-[exhales sharply] -MAN 2: Margot?
I sent her a message. She hasn't replied.
WOMAN: I don't know. I'll be there soon, I think.
MAN: Call me back, please.
[background chattering]
EMILIE: [pants] Let me in! Let me in!
[man over PA system] Your attention, please.
For security reasons, we have to wait here a moment.
EMILIE: Where the fuck are my keys? [sobs]
Shit! Shit. Shit. Fuck! [sobs]
They killed everyone at the Bataclan. [sobs]
They shot in our direction. [sobs] They shot at us!
What's your name?
MAN: Look at me. I'm with you. What's your name?
My name is Emilie. [sobs] We can't go back there!
Vincent. Vincent, it's Chris.
I wanted to know where you were. I'm really worried.
Call me back. Call me back as soon as you can.
I love you.
-[Emilie sobs] -[excited chattering]
-MAN: What the hell! -WOMAN: Are you OK?
-Everything's going to be OK. -[Emile pants frantically]
[panting]
MOTHER: Christelle?
[news report on TV blares]
Oh, there you are.
Fuck! Where is it?
-I was worried. I tried to reach you. -[chattering on TV]
-What are you looking for? -Where the fuck is it?
-What are you looking for? -Your charger because I lost mine!
MAN ON TV: Your block has been closed off.
Can you tell us a bit more about this?
WOMAN ON TV: Yes, the entire neighborhood is filled with
policemen, special forces.
There are so many people. I don't know what's going on...
I don't know.
[beeping]
I heard dozens of gun shots outside my place, Bichat Road.
Anyone knows what happened?
[beeping]
I live near the Carillon if anyone needs help.
I can't sleep. I'm watching the news.
Thinking of the victims and their families...
[beeping]
WOMAN REPORTER: At 9:53 p.m., roughly 13 minutes later,
another suicide bomber blows himself up
400 yards from the Stade de France.
At 12:20 a.m., the BRI and RAID
at last launch the assault on the Bataclan.
[distant banging]
The three terrorists then blew themselves up.
The hostage situation lasted three hours.
Inside the venue, nearly 90 lifeless bodies were found.
CHRIS: Shit. Vincent, call me back.
[horns honking, police whistle blowing]
[panting]
[sniffles, breathes shakily]
[people sobbing]
[distant siren blares]
Morning, ma'am. May I see your bag please?
-Of course. -MAN: Your IDs! Your IDs
Families of the wounded go first! The others have to wait!
Please prepare your IDs.
For all services, inquiries are to be placed at the information booth.
Please let the staff...
DOCTOR: The staff is completely overwhelmed.
[door bangs]
Oh, shit.
MAN: Don't push in, please! Stay behind the cordon.
[excited chattering]
MAN: Stand back.
[sharp exhale]
[sighs] Fuck. What a nightmare.
Do you have a loved one in the ICU?
My brother.
[softly] OK.
-Is he going to be OK? -I don't know yet.
[breathes heavily]
-And you? -I'm looking for a friend.
Is he in this ward?
Well, according to the message his father left me, yeah. Mm.
And how did you get past security?
I went through the basement.
The toll-free numbers are unreachable
and I'm going crazy
[Chris sighs]
Come on.
[beeping]
WOMAN: Yes?
Alain Bériaux, Maxime Bériaux's brother.
[buzzing]
-Here. -Thank you.
You'll find the ICU rooms everywhere around here.
Thank you.
[rhythmic beeping of ICU machines]
-WOMAN 1: You want gloves? -WOMAN 2: Yes, please.
[fast beeping]
[breathes shakily]
[sobs softly, breathes shakily]
[equipment beeps]
Oh, Vincent!
[sobs softly]
-Oh, my Vincent. -[equipment beeping]
Oh, Vincent.
-[beeping] [sobs softly]
[softly] Vincent.
Vincent, my best friend, my brother,
you are in a coma since yesterday.
Great musician, a heart of gold,
Vincent, I love you. #Bataclan #November13.
MOTHER: Sweetie?
-[knocking] -Chris?
-Yeah? -[door opens]
You OK?
It's Vincent.
He was at the Bataclan and... took two bullets.
He's in a coma at Pompidou now. Can you believe it?
Ah, fuck, this is horrible.
I have been to every single Eagles concert in Paris, every time.
Every time!
And why didn't I this time? It's...
I don't know. It's, um...
How did you find out?
His father posted a message on Facebook.
[breathes shakily]
I saw it in the subway and I thought that I was going to faint.
[sighs]
May I see it?
-See what? -His father's message.
But why?
Just to see.
[exhales softly]
[chuckles]
[computer beeps]
There you go.
"Hello to all. Thanks to those who knew and called
and sent messages for the others.
I'm sorry to inform you
that Vincent was present at the Bataclan on Friday.
He took two bullets...
and is now in a coma. Stay strong.
Christian, his father."
So?
There aren't many replies, are there?
Yes, because Vincent hated Facebook.
And it's his father who posted a message on his page!
I just told you that!
-His father? -Well, that's enough now!
It's OK. Stop it!
Fuck!
I'm really sorry, Mom. I...
I'm sorry, because actually...
I went to see him in the hospital today
and it completely overwhelmed me to see him like that.
You know, he was just laying there, with all of the IVs.
He was intubated and he was on life support and everything. It's...
But Vincent's a warrior.
He's not going to give up. I know that.
And I'm going to visit him every day.
I promise you. I am not going to give up on him.
You know that.
Yes. I know.
Do you have any laundry?
No, I'm good.
-I'm starting a load. -Mm.
Can you close the door please? I just need to...
Sorry.
[muffled rock music plays]
[computer bleeps]
Hello, Emilie
I saw you
in the Metro the night of the 13th.
My best friend was seriously wounded at the Bataclan.
If you need anything at all, feel free to reach out.
Stay strong. Chris.
[computer beeps]
Hey, Chris
Thank you for your message.
I'm so sorry for your friend.
How are you?
It's tough...
But it feels so good to be able to talk about it.
[sighs]
[sniffles]
-Emilie? -Christelle?
Yes. At last. It's nice to meet you.
Sorry. There was a long line at the bakery.
-That's OK. -We got plenty of buns.
-Great! -Alright. Victor, this is Christelle.
Hi! You can call me Chris.
-OK. -That's a lovely name.
-EMILIE: How's Vincent? -CHRIS: I was there this morning.
The doctors let me stay with him a long time. It was really special.
EMILIE: Victor, your shoes, please.
Come on in. I'm sorry. It's a real mess here.
[yawns, inhales] Sorry.
CHRIS: Were you able to get some sleep today?
No.
-Do you want to go take a nap? -Right now?
Well, yeah, I'm here.
If you sleep, even for half an hour, it can really do you some good.
This morning, there was a traffic jam over there.
So, of course, people were honking.
And I thought it was because of them,
that it was them,
who were in the middle of the street below my apartment.
They had found me through the Facebook group,
looked me up on Google.
I knew that it wasn't real.
It was just a garbage truck.
But with my eyes closed, it felt so real.
I could see them bursting through my front door.
Right here.
[exhales softly]
[Chris smacks lips]
Take a nap. I'll keep an eye out for you.
Hm. [sniffs]
Victor.
Pasta with ham or pasta with tomato sauce?
[sighs]
Huh, Victor?
I'm not very hungry, but I like them both.
That's great.
On the other hand, you know, you haven't tidied up much.
Huh?
What did we say?
-I'm tired. -You know what?
I want your mother to be really happy when she wakes up.
With the apartment super neat and with everything organized.
With a good vibe. Super Victor, fed, washed, combed.
Huh? What do you say?
Huh?
Victor?
I'd like you to do what I'm asking
Hey!
My drawing.
It's fragile. It's for my mom.
You have until three.
One.
Two.
Three.
[pants]
[chuckles]
You believed me. [chuckles]
That's great, sweetie. Your mom's going to be happy.
I'll call you in ten minutes. I'm going to make dinner.
CHRIS: Emilie?
Oh, you're awake.
How are you?
[chuckles] What's all this?
Where's Victor?
-Sleeping. -Oh.
He ate really well.
I made shell pasta with some ham. The best.
I don't have kids, but I do have childhood memories.
Wait, but you really cleaned the whole place! [chuckles] What?
Well, yeah, but I wasn't going to run a bath or anything. [chuckles]
I don't know what to say. It's too much.
I'm really embarrassed.
-Do you want something to eat? -Uh...
There's pasta leftover.
No, don't worry. I'm fine. I actually think I want a drink now.
-You got it. [chuckles] -Yeah.
In fact, he had a purple jazz bass to match his jacket!
-Oh, wow. -[both chuckle]
And since he lives in Los Angles, why don't you go and join him?
Well, actually, I had a one-way ticket reservation on the 17th.
And I'd given up my apartment, my job...
And then... [sighs]
And then and then and then.
Vincent.
Mm.
With whom you've never had an affair.
Oh, hell, no. [chuckles]
No, no, no, no, no, as a manager,
the minute you start messing around with the guys in the band,
-it's over. -[chuckles]
Hold on a second.
VICTOR: Mommy!
-Oh, shit. -Wait. Wait. Here, here.
Be right back.
Yes, sweetheart. I'm coming.
-[cork pops] -EMILIE: What happened, honey?
[Victor chatters indistinctly]
-EMILIE: Did that really happen? -[Victor chatters indistinctly]
VICTOR: I'm sorry.
EMILIE: OK, honey, don't worry about it.
[approaching footsteps]
[sighs, grunts softly]
Uh...
You OK?
Actually, I going to need some time alone.
Well, yeah, of course.
I understand.
Besides it's late anyway. I should get going.
No, leave it.
Can you please just go?
[retreating footsteps]
[tapping phone keyboard]
Hi, everyone!
Big-time insomnia over here.
If anyone needs to talk...
Call me on 06 39 98 12 52.
[phone dings]
[gasps softly]
Oh, no.
-No, it can't be. -Are you all right, ma'am?
No, I'm not alright. I...
Wait, I don't think I've got my wallet.
Check again, your purse, your pockets.
-Have a good look. -Oh, no, what an idiot!
-Are you sure you don't have it? -I left it at my friend's house.
It's going to be quite a trip, going all the way back, ma'am. It's...
Maybe you could leave me an address.
And I can send you a check.
Or I can make a transfer to your bank account
Uh, really, I'm so sorry. I... I just... Oh, man.
What will you leave me in exchange?
[nervous chuckle] What do you mean?
What's in your purse that can pay for the fare?
Actually, I... I'm a clinical psychologist.
And since the 13th,
I've been listening to survivors at the town hall of the 11th.
And I haven't stopped, so uh...
Uh, look, I'm just a little out of it, you know. I...
[sighs] I don't know if you're aware, but there are taxis
that have taken victims home for free? So I'm just asking...
Please, just empty your purse, ma'am.
I... Well, I'm sorry but...
If you'd like, I'll empty it out.
There. There's nothing in here that's going to interest you.
-This is unbelievable! -Empty your bag.
If there's no wallet, I'll drop you off for free with my apologies.
[sighs]
Asshole!
Fuck.
You're kidding me.
Fuck.
[phone buzzes]
Yes?
Hello?
Yes.
Yeah. Yes.
You were online last night.
Yeah. How are you?
Is it OK if we talk to each other informally?
CHRIS: Have you had as cat for a long time?
Hello, Samia?
Hello, Sophie. I've just listened to your message. Are you OK?
No, don't worry. I've got plenty of time.
I won't be able to sleep anyway.
There's no problem. No problem at all, Sarah.
-Go ahead. Just take your time. -[phone buzzes]
Why don't you lie down for a bit?
And so you... you know what he looks like?
You could see the sign, right?
So, that girl with the red pullover went out after you?
Alright. Wait. Hold on. I've got another incoming call.
Can I just put you on hold for a second? I'll be really quick.
I don't want to leave you alone.
You know, I'm trying to... to visualize what you're telling me.
When did you lose sight of him?
And that's when you went into the pit.
Since 1986, there's been a guarantee fund
for victims of terrorism
in which everyone takes part.
With this fund, we are repairing all the injury
and providing social reintegration at the same time.
So, how will you manage?
Are you working right now?
You can't stay by yourself.
Well, you've got to make a claim. It is crucial.
From what I understand,
you've got to file a complaint at the police station.
Yeah, any police station. Um... I'm here. I'm here for you.
Max, it's OK to cry.
Yeah, I know. Same here.
I can't stop thinking about Vincent.
I just talked to someone who said the exact same thing.
[chuckling]
We'll figure it out together. Don't worry.
We'll figure it out together. You're not alone.
I'm here, Karim. We can stay quiet together for a minute.
[telephone pinging]
I'm not going anywhere.
[telephone pinging]
[grunts softly]
Kendji: Hard to be able to sleep after our conversation
Alba: Best thoughts to you and Vincent. I hope that...
[grunts softly]
[sighs]
[sniffles, grunts softly]
[inhales, yawns]
[door opens, footsteps]
[door bangs]
Christelle?
[breathes shakily]
There are fewer bruises. It's looking better.
[sighs]
This oil smells so good.
[whispers] Look.
[duct tape crackles]
Am I holding you too tight?
Always together.
Never let go. Love and freedom.
[door opens]
[door closes]
Hello, Philippe. Hello, ma'am.
Hi, nice to meet you.
I'm, um... I'm Philippe's girlfriend.
Nice to meet you.
Uh, Philippe's parents came by the day before yesterday.
Oh, that's great.
My colleague explained
that you didn't want them to know about your visits here.
Yeah, because, um...
[clears throat] Philippe never, uh, told them about me.
Well, I can't hide anything from them.
It's not my role, nor that of the team.
Yeah, of course. I understand. [sighs]
I'm sorry. [sighs]
I suggest discussing it directly with them.
Otherwise, you won't be allowed to visit.
You're right. [chuckles nervously]
I'm going to do that. [chuckles nervously]
-Good day, ma'am. -Have a good day.
See you later, Philippe.
[door closes]
[sighs]
[upbeat chattering]
[rock music plays in background]
-Hello. -Oh.
Christelle, is that it?
Yeah, that's it. Well, people usually call me Chris.
-Very well, then, Chris. -Léon.
Léon, yes. Welcome.
-It's nice to meet you. -Nice to meet you.
-Hi. -Juliette.
-Oh, Juliette. Nice to meet you. -Nice to meet you.
-And...? -Renaud.
OK.
Nice to meet you.
-Would you like a drink? -Um, yes, please.
So, my friends, I'm taking out the notebook.
[chuckling]
So, last time we met,
we mentioned the idea of forming an association
to structure all of this a bit more.
But that raises a lot of questions.
In particular, uh, if we create an association,
who is it for and what is it for?
Are we going to do it to share information
with the other victims and the families?
Or do we want to offer them a place to talk
and listen with real professional psychological support?
And then, also, do we also need to have a political line?
Oh, no, we're not mixing politics with all this. Makes no sense.
Yeah, but on the forum, for instance,
we can't just let people rant freely on Islam, you know?
Alright, but it's not our role to do that...
-AMAIA: It is somehow -Well...
These people have suffering, and we have to listen to it.
There are words that shouldn't be spoken, that's all.
Right now we have to be careful.
If you want, I can try to manage a sort of moderation group
to prevent things from spinning out of control.
I think that's the only solution.
Of course, it is suffering. I agree, but there can be no confusion.
And so then what happens when one crosses the line, chief?
Well, then, that's what a moderator is for.
-Limits. -[Juliet chuckling]
-And... and why do you call me chief? -Chief, because you're in charge.
So, yeah, thank you. It's cool, chief.
I'm actually not in charge of anything.
-Um, I don't know. -[chuckles]
What are we doing? We... We... We...
All I see are empty glasses!
Well, in any case, the next round is on me.
-ALL: No. -CHRIS: Yeah, come on. It's fine.
We're... Come on. We're ten people.
-It's fine. I can afford it. -Thank you.
-LÉON: Thank you. -You're very welcome.
-RENAUD: Thank you. -Wait. I'll come with you.
CHRIS: Can I have ten caramel shots, please?
Sure. Cam?
Can you prepare ten caramel shots?
EMILIE: I need to ask you something.
Victor told me you tore up one of his drawing.
Well, almost.
It's true.
But why, though?
Well, because I messed up.
In fact, I wanted him to tidy up a bit. He said no.
Then he only did what he felt like doing.
And then I acted like a huge moron.
I launched into something about desire and responsibility.
And do we always only do what we want to do?
Long story short, at one point, I took his drawing and I said to him,
"You see, if I tear up your drawing because I want to, can I or can't I?"
It's a good thing I don't have kids.
[exhales]
Come on, shots!
-LÉON: Yes. -[Juliette laughs]
Sounds great.
[background chattering, laughter]
It's so hard to get service.
[pop music playing, chattering]
I wanted us to go into the bedroom and I don't know...
spend the most wonderful night ever, you see/
[sighs]
I've tried again since, but...
she can't.
She can't. She's stuck in a really dark place that... that I understand.
I understand because it's horrible.
But that's precisely why I... I told myself that
they won't take that away from me.
Have you ever used Tinder?
Yeah, yeah, I have. Yeah.
OK. So...
A little advice?
You have to know what you want.
Me, I like it when it's direct.
You see, the guy arrives at the date, I don't give him time to sit down.
If he fits his picture...
Let's go for the show, folks.
[Thomas chuckles]
-[Thomas panting] -[woman, man chattering]
-[Thomas breathing heavily] -[chattering continues]
[Thomas grunts softly]
[pants, grunts softly]
[Thomas sobs softly]
[Thomas sobs]
[tap running]
[heavy dance music plays]
LÉON: Because it's too complicated.
-You know what I mean. -Hi. How are you?
-Hi. -LÉON: Oh, she's here.
-EMILIE: You OK? Not too tired? -No, no.
-You don't mind if I interrupt? -Sure, that's fine.
-How are you? -Let me introduce you to Chris.
-Chris, this is Myriam. -Nice to meet you.
She was at the Bataclan and now she does some hospital therapy.
Oh, that's great!
-I'm sorry, but... -You don't know what that means.
You said it and...
-Exactly. I've got no idea -No one does.
[both laugh]
I just go and visit the victims and anyone who was there, actually.
I talk to the families members. I stay with them at the hospital.
Today, I was at Bichat. And tomorrow at Pompidou.
Well, Chris's friend is at Pompidou.
Yeah, um... Well, he's in a coma.
Is he OK?
[sighs]
Well, um, they managed to stabilize him fairly quickly, so that's good.
A now we've...
Well, we're just waiting to see if things are going to progress or not.
I'm just doing what I can.
I'm there.
I'm talking for two. It's completely boring. [chuckles]
I sound like my mother. How depressing. [chuckles]
-What's your friend's name? -Vincent.
OK.
-And will you be with him tomorrow? -Mm-hmm.
You visit him every day, right?
Yeah, pretty much. Yeah.
Do you want us to come with you?
[sighs] Well...
That means that [clears throat] I've got to...
I've got to check with the medical team first.
You know, generally, they go along.
-Oh, really? -Yeah, don't worry.
Now say yes.
[exhales sharply] No, no, no, it's I...
MYRIAM: We don't mind at all.
That is so sweet. Um...
Well... I don't know.
Maybe tomorrow afternoon.
MYRIAM: Sure, it's no problem for us.
-LÉON: I'll be there. -EMILIE: Yes. Me too.
[stutters] Not too early.
-That way I've got time to see... -LÉON: 12:05, then?
[both chuckle]
[background chattering]
[beeping]
WOMAN: Yes?
Yes. Hello. Chris Blandin for Philippe Douvier.
-WOMAN: You can come in. -Thank you.
Yes, I was early. Um, I'm already in the hospital room.
I'm waiting for you at the service entrance.
I'll see you soon.
[sharp exhale]
Hello, Doctor.
-LÉON: Hi, Chris. -[relieved sigh]
-EMILIE: You OK? -Yeah.
I mean, I don't know. I think so.
It's just so weird to see you all here.
Well... alright. Come on. Come on in.
[breathes deeply]
He has soft skin.
-You massage him? -CHRIS: Yes.
Once. Even twice a day.
[Chris exhales deeply]
I know you're listening to us.
And I know you're not far away.
I'm not afraid of silence.
[soft chuckle]
You hear me, Vincent? We're here.
Vincent, I'm going to leave you with Myriam,
I've got to go talk to the nurse.
NURSE: How many of you are there?
-I've spoken to you about this. -CHRIS: There's four of us.
-But we're all very close friends. -It's not allowed.
You can't be that many.
But we won't stay for long.
I... I told you not to come back here
until you sorted things out with his parents.
I know. I know. I'm really sorry, but...
I totally understand your position.
And I'm sorry for putting you on the spot.
But I swear we're going to leave right now. I promise.
I don't want to get into any trouble.
[whispers] OK.
NURSE: It's the last time.
[door closes]
[phone dings]
You don't know me yet,
but I came to see you today with Chris.
[phone dings]
I'm writing you this message as a milestone
for your future return among us.
Stay strong!
[phone dings]
[banging nearby]
[softly] What the fuck?
Fuck.
Mom, fuck!
What the hell are you doing?
-What is this mess? -Get all your things.
I can't take any more of your Bataclan bullshit.
I can't force you to stop, but I can't be your accomplice either.
Hey, Mom. Hey, Mom!
They need my help! Do you understand that?
[breathes heavily]
I don't have the strength anymore, Christelle.
[breathes heavily] Wait. Are you listening to me?
I'm telling you they need me. OK?
I can't, Christelle. I don't want to live this anymore.
[breathes shakily] Do... Do you understand what I'm saying?
They don't care about truth. What they want is for us to help them.
-Do you understand? -I don't want to relive this. Here.
You don't want to relive what, Mom?
Relive what? You don't even know what I'm doing!
I'm... They need me to help them!
I'm useful. Do you understand?!
Go away. Go away, or I'm calling the cops.
-I can't take anymore bullshit. -If you fucking do that again!
-I don't want you here anymore. -[Chris groans, pants]
[sighs]
You're just a moron!
Yes, whatever.
You're a moron. You're a moron! You don't understand anything!
You don't understand!
[sobs] Fuck!
Open this door, damn it!
[breathes shakily]
-[Chris screams] -[bangs on door]
-You don't understand anything! -[banging]
You don't understand anything! [sobs]
Fuck. [sobs]
-Good evening. -Good evening, Ms. Blandin.
Can we speak for a minute?
Uh, yeah.
I just spoke with social services.
You won't be alone in the room tonight.
Oh.
Don't worry. It's just for one night.
Yeah, I...
If there's a problem, let me know.
OK?
[stutters] Yeah.
-Good evening. -Good evening.
[sighs]
[woman coughing]
[rock music plays over headphones]
[bed rattling]
Sorry, ma'am. I'm all yours now.
We've got all the time we need. Don't worry.
You're going to be able to tell me.
I'll write it all down.
And this report, among other things,
will enable you to make your claim on the guarantee fund.
Is that OK?
Yes. Uh, thank you.
[grunts] Thank you, Inspector.
Inspectors are called lieutenant now.
Really?
But I'm not even a lieutenant. I'm a simple officer.
OK.
Alright, then. Um...
You can't file against a dead person.
We'll write your complaint against the surviving member
of the commando squad Salah Abdeslam.
Did you enter the venue before the concert started?
[breaths shakily]
We're in no hurry.
Take the time you need.
[breathes shakily]
Yes.
Subtitling: Iyuno
You know what? I'm going to be honest with you. I don't trust you.
CHRIS: I've made mistakes
But I've paid my debt.
EMILIE: You will have to retell what you experienced at the Bataclan.
-And that's when you started running. -Yes.
-We got started on the wrong foot. -No, no, you're nuts.
-Hold on, Léon! -You should go home.
You really think I'm an idiot?
Is it true that you've already met Iggy Pop?
THE CONFIDANTE