Jacques looked back at his former body, no longer understanding what the woman trapped inside was shouting at him -- even though she was speaking French; his mind in this new body no longer understood the language he had spoken since he was a boy. He could likely guess what she was saying. She was probably shouting about the body swap, or blaming him, or demanding they switch back.
But he hadn’t been responsible for the swap, though he certainly saw himself as the clear beneficiary. He didn’t know how he happened either, but he was now a Mandarin-speaking Chinese woman -- one of the many tourists that visited Paris each year, often donning berets and expensive French fashion. There was a little English in the back of his brain as well, but no way to communicate with his former French self.
No matter, for some reason he felt like he could manage this new life on instinct.
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