Perrine beckoned over the server girl, who rolled her eyes at another order of rum and whatever drink the man wanted but went to get them anyhow. "Renaud's the reason I'm here. I was 19 years old when I met 'im. Lived in Paris all my life, but then he came along, the wild thing, and promised me the world." She scoffed and took a swig of rum. "Should have known it was a load of bullshit. He went on and on about how a life of travel and adventure was better than staying with my family..." She gave a sharp laugh. "Salaud de droite." It wasn't often that she spoke French to other people anymore, having left her home country for years, but when she did her country of origin was obvious. After a moment, she clarified, assuming the man didn't speak French, "He was a right bastard. I loved 'im, we were engaged to be married, even. September of 1892. Then he started falling into these fits, and he'd say he was having visions of the biggest trove he'd ever seen." The serving girl returned with the drinks and Perrine took a pause from her story to thank her. "We were chercheur de trésors- treasure-hunters, I suppose you'd call us in English. He vanished three days before our wedding day." She shook her head wryly. "Left me a note. 'Je reviendrai pour vous.', 'I'll come back for you.' Been two and a half years. Not a single sign of him since. Came to Whitby on a whim, been here ever since, booze and beachcoming my only activities." For someone as drunk as Perrine was, it might come as a surprise that she was using decent sentences and words in her speech.