Chéri laughed in their adorable way, using exactly the voice and the expression they knew people tended to find endearing. It quite possibly was a reaction to the mustache twitch, but they made up for it and said “Sometimes even French people are alone. Even I place they are not familiar with. And if it was really, really bad, screams are generally understood no matter the language.”

The officer came up with another explanation. Chéri crossed their arms “Oh, I keep moving locations? Why?” They seemed intrigued, they unfold their arms and indicated with the tip of their fingers where they had abandoned their shoes. “I didn’t want them to get all wet.” They explained. Chéri looked around “And I could be here because…?” At this point they seemed mainly interested in following the story. Chéri rose their brows. Oh, they were never, ever going to show they could imagine why anyone with attack them other than their money “What? I doubt there are seashells thieves out there.”

Wesley stretched out an arm. "Who would hear?" He asked gesturing to the empty beach.

He walked towards where the shoes were supposed to be, keeping Chéri in the corner of his eye. "How about instead of repeating me. You answer? Where you are staying? How long you've been in town? Who are you?" He said getting more aggravated. "It isn't the seashells they could want. They might not want to take anything."

Chéri shrugged “People who, hypothetically, would come from the same direction where the criminals have come from, no? If we are playing the game of what could happen, there could be other people.” Chéri continued, still not worried at all. Chéri didn’t move, letting the man find their very fine, very dirty shoes, waiting for them to come back.

“In town. Less than a month. I am Pierre,” any name would appease the man at this point, at least partially, concluded Chéri, borrowing the name from what Zechariah had deemed decent enough to be carried for older men’s comfort. Chéri bent their head to the side “What sort of thieves take nothing?”

Wesley eyed the shoes and wondered if they were stolen as he came back. "It isn't hard to see someone and go back out of sight, especially since you are focused more on the ground than your surroundings." He shook his head. "And you can see there are no other people here." He looked back and forth.

He dragged a hand down his face, "Then how can you not know the name of your place? And I never said thieves were the only problem, Pieerrreee.."he said giving emphasis to the name clearly not certain he believed it.

The shoes were quite big, like Chéri’s feet, they would have needed to be quite a proficient thief to find something of that quality exactly in their unusual size. “Again, I have nothing with me they might wish to steal. I’d show them.” Chéri keeps saying. “So even if these people were to come, alone, with specific intentions towards me, what could they possibly want?” Chéri wasn’t going to give up on that so easily.

Wasley protested. Chéri shrugged “These English names are so odd,” And a little annoyed, “Pierre” rebuked “Officeeeeer. You haven’t introduced yourself either, in fact. That is not very nice. So what is it that I have done wrong, other than having no memory for this impossible language?” Chéri was getting to cocky for their own good, probably, but they were also confident the man wasn’t going to outran them if necessary and by now it felt apparent that the bobby only wanted to be a dick.

Wesley stomped up to 'Pierre' and glared at him. "Do not act so innocent to me. We both know you know that your face is very womanly. You are a perfect candidate for kidnappers. And they wouldn't hold you for ransom. Since you appear to be alone. They would take you and sell you to the highest bidder!" He finally said.

He shook his head and stood tall, hoping the height difference would intimidate the boy a little. "I am constable Roberts! And you have been very selective in anything you've told me. A stranger to town with no explanation why they are in town is suspicious. I don't even know if any part of your story is true!"

Chéri tilted their head with the same, interrogating glare and promptly asked “And?” Then shook their head “What sort of markets do you have here? I have seen hens and cows sold in public squares, but womanly people? Not really. I can’t lay eggs and I don’t have much meat to be made off of my bones, what would they need me for?” Chéri did not seemed intentioned to just give up.

Chéri looked up and made another adorable smile. “So what? Are you going to arrest me? Will you take my seashells because they are suspicious?”

Wesley rolled his eyes. "Not on the markets you daft child. In the dark alleys and special rooms that only open up after dark with invitation. They would devour something like you alive. You aren't much but certainly their type. I would catch them all but I can't check behind every locked door."

He shook his head and leaned in to glare back. "No. But I'm going to follow you home to see where you live. Obviously!"

Chéri repressed a satisfied grin and offered instead a shocked expression, covering their mouth with shock “Oh my good, constable Roberts, what a horrible, horrible idea! How do you come to such conclusions!” Chéri looked around “Are there many such places in Whitby? Really?” The ocean answered placid. “And do you even come up with something like that! You say they hide, how could you ever see them? Are you one of them?” Chéri exclaimed, horrified, displaying horror. “My god!” They added, walking slightly back towards their shoes.

Then they open their mouth wide and started putting their hands forward, as if Wesley was about to attack them.

Wesley shook his head and folded his arms. "Good. Be scared you fool. Now go home. I'll find out where you live and if your story is true. What sort of idiot comes to a town like this so cluelessly?" He shook his head and grumbled staring at him.