Chéri made a giant, warm smile, that reached their eyes and made them sparkle, then took the loaf with the gratitude normally reserved to receiving promotion, long-awaited money and kitties. They looked amorously at the food then raised their head “Are you… fine with thanks? Or do you also not want me to thank you ever?” Chéri inquired, remembering the previous night.

Then Gabriel asked something delicate. Chéri hadn’t figured out what to respond yet, so they summarised with the smallest amount of drama they could conjure for the situation “Someone insisted I come with them here, but we fought and I had to get away.” Which maybe explained the choice of an orange suit in the middle of Whitby.