Capitaine Lothaire La Loutre

Blaireau cut the engines and let the boat drift with the current. He raised his finger to his lips and looked at me impishly. Why did he want me to be quiet? I had the impulse to check my gun for readiness but his grin told me it was not about that. We came round a bend and I noticed a dude lying on a quilt on the bank, lost in his reading. The dude did not notice the boat as we drew up to him.
"CAPITAINE! CAPITAINE!" Blaireau shouted at the top of his lungs.
The dude looked up. "Blaireau! C'est vraiment toi. Nom de Dieu! Qu'est-ce que tu fais ici?" Then the dude noticed me. Introductions followed, mostly in French since the Captain spoke little English.
"This is Capitaine Lothaire La Loutre. He was my commander in the Legion." It was news to me that Blaireau had been in the military, let alone the Legion.
"Enchanté, mon capitaine." I offered.
"Le plaisir est pour moi." La Loutre smiled at my deference. "Bon, est-ce que vous restez un peu?" It seemed more like an order somehow. We tossed the rope to him and he tied it up on a tree stump. Blaireau and I hopped down on the grassy bank and followed the Captain through a copse of alder and into his backyard. There was a good 100 yards square of various flower, vegetable, and herb gardens to pass through before reaching the patio, where we took seats around a wrought-iron picnic table. La Loutre opened its parasol to shield us from the sun.
"Un petit coup?" He asked.
"What's that mean?" I whispered to Blaireau, being unfamiliar with the expression.
"You'll find out" Blaireau inscrutably replied. La Loutre was already on his way inside. Blaireau's bemused expression brought to mind Mae West's quip that "too much of a good thing can be wonderful."