Chéri nodded approvingly at Francis, appreciating someone who displayed an healthy appetite. It was a good thing they could not understand the following comment, otherwise they would have answered their own way. There was a lot of chatting going on between them, but Chéri caught only a few words here and there, or even snippets of it. In the end, they notice “You talk funny.” They said to Francis, counting on a translation by Gabriel. A pause. “I like it. Is that English, father?” They smiled sweetly at Francis, taking away some of their warmth, God forbid they made themselves look suspicious by being nice.

Speaking of suspicious and not being nice, there was Père Brennan. Chéri drank as deeply as they could while the priest from the previous night made his entrance, following him with their eyes slightly closed. They finished their milk and started chewing on their bread. “Morning, Père.” They said, munching on their bread, not openly distrustful, but less jolly than before.

They turned to Gabriel, hoping for the explanation and some translation, maybe, an noticed how grim he looked. A little perplexed, Chéri bit into their bread, reducing it significantly in size. Even in this tense environment, Chéri seemed to easily find great joy and enthusiasm for food. So much so that they couldn’t stop themselves from smiling.