Francis had wandered off for a day or so before returning to the church to scrub the floor and the pews. It was long and annoying work, but not the most difficult thing he'd ever done. Still, his hands felt gross and rough after all of that washing so he went outside to take a break.

He had considered going to beg Mrs. Higgins for a snack after he'd done such a good job when he saw someone familiar walking by. That guy from breakfast who didn't speak a lick of English. Chéri had been nice to Francis despite the language barrier and his clear downcast state. He cupped his hands around his mouth to call out, "Hey! Frenchman!" He grinned and waved for him to come over to chat for a bit though he did stand in case the other was on the way somewhere else. He had no clue what he could say but some things translated past mere words.

Chéri hadn’t been to church much and they missed it terribly. They had come over on their first real Sunday in Whitby, but had stayed as close as possible to the exit and left the second they could. It was very reassuring to hear latin, to find one thing that was the same everywhere and that was just about it. They hadn’t dared going to confession yet and were honestly struggling with the idea.

Chéri did not know the frenchman was them, although they had heard that word before and recognised it fairly clearly, but Francis’s voice was still relatively fresh in their memory, so they turned. “Ah, Francìs!” They greeted “Are you still at the church or have they chased you out? No idea how you sleep.” They knew they were not understood. “Church” they indicated the direction of the building and did a thumbs up, in their own way to inquire about Francis’s satisfaction.

Francis assumed he was understood when they turned and smiled huge. He walked over to them and noticed them say something and gesture to the church. "Oh I'm done for now." He said waving it off as if he could care less and walked to them cheerfully.

"I was gonna go see about checking the kitchen or begging Mrs. Higgins for food. Wanna come?" He tilted his head curiously showing he had a question, then gestured towards the constabulary and then made the motion of eating. That had to be clearly understood, right?

Francis made a gesture that meant I’m done and Chéri nodded, then they didn’t understand what Francis was saying, except for “food” and “Mrs Higgins” and nodded. Chéri went where food was, no matter what.

“Church good?” My dear fellow, how is life treating you these days? Are you finding yourself quite comfortable with your current employer? Was too complicated for him. “Père good?” This was probably less clear.

Francis smiled huge at the nod and waved for Cheri to follow him towards the Presbytery. "Oh, you know.. it's church. I don't stay for the services, pretty sure I'd get a side eye the entire time. Funny how they talk about god is charity and kindess, but you see someone who clearly has nothing and they think I'm just a drain on society." He totally was." But cleaning it has been fine, it's usually pretty quiet. When I can, I try to do it during confessions and I try to 'just happen' to be by the confessional as close as possible in case I can hear something. They've been too quiet so far, but I'm sure I will eventually. " He grinned huge and looked over. "What about you? Where have you been staying and doing?" He thought hard how to convey it and gestured wiping tables, hitting stone with a pickaxe, and finally sleeping to mean where he'd been staying. He had no idea if the other would understand but it was worth a shot.

Chéri had no idea what the answer specifically meant, but the essential was clear: not good. Bat though? It didn’t sound bad, but if Chéri understood what sort of life Francis was leaving, anything that wasn’t just bad was welcomed. “Confessional”, though, was a word they understood “You confessional?” Close enough. They couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to share something with Father Brennan AFTER talking to him for more than fifteen minutes and Father Richards clearly didn’t like Francis, so….that sounded like good gossip. Chéri had started to learn some basic questions -probably most of it was Christine’s hard work and dedication, to wine and education- and understood “where”. The rest they could try to guess. “Pub,” they shook their head. That hadn’t worked. “Doctor,” they shrugged. That somehow also hadn’t worked. “Diamond Pony,” they nodded at that. The last one was good enough for them.

Francis shook his head at being asked if he went to confessional. He gestured by cupping his ear to show he'd tried to listen in. But the idea of going to confession and forcing the priest to listen did sound fun. He then decided to shrug with a mischievous smile.

Francis tilted his head curiously. "Doctor?" He repeated and gestured by putting a hand to his head as if faint. He was wondering if the other was ill. He definitely was surprised he knew Diamond Pony. He snapped and gestured to him. "Ah.." He wasn't allowed there. Not that he'd want to go anyway. He gestured to himself and made a big X to say he was forbidden.

Francis touched his ear and Chéri went “oooh” then laughed out aloud, way more than it was appropriate before wrinkling their nose. They touched their ear and then then mimicked an interested expression, nodding, curious to know if Francis had heard any interesting thing.

Chéri shook their head and made the gesture of someone sweeping the floor. They had seeked the help of a doctor to get a job. Francis seemed surprised and explained the Diamond Pony didn’t work for him. Chéri shrugged. “Diamond Pony food. Money.” Apparently they found something adequare there. The looked at the presbitery again “Safe.” They added, then turned to Francis. “How long Francis presbytery?” They asked.

Francis grinned huge, pleased how much he and Cheri were able to communicate. He laughed a little as well then when asked if he heard anything good, he waved his hands behind him. He wasn't sure if they understood him, but he was lying and saying it was all boring instead of admitting he couldn't hear anything.

He was happy that they were working for the doctor instead of being ill. But also working for the Pony was interesting. He didn't know how to ask in a reasonable way so he tried to gesture as someone giggling and leading someone away. He wasn't judging, but he was wanting to know if Cheri was doing a lot for that room and board and if so, they were getting paid. The scrawny man was confused by the question and gestured behind him and then before wondering if they wanted to know how long he'd been there or planning. He decided to answer either way. He first gestured the number one and being asleep before waking up and seeing him there. And then shrugged to the later, he would be there as long as he allowed but he certainly wasn't there every night.

Francis didn’t seem impressed with the local’s confessions. Chéri shrugged. They were a little let down, to be honest: villages often had nice secrets.

Chéri tilted their heads at the question surrounding the giggling and leading away and nodded in a fashion that suggested a “yes and?” Apparently to them it was obvious what kind of job they had at the Pony. They identified with it so much they had started to take for granted that everyone did the same.

Francis started to explain and Chéri did a big gesture of surprise. What a coincidence! Chéri shook their head. “How?” They also knew that word. The presbytery clearly had come across as a perfectly normal place to them… not.