“Beurre. Butter.” Chéri repeated, laughing a little bit at them both, over the frustration of the language and concentrating now on the fact that they had the chance to actually eat something they wanted just because they wished to -something they thought they had lost-.

Chéri ate with a joy that was hard to hide because of it and a gratitude towards life and chance. That rubbed onto Ruby, making her too object of their joy.

Chéri didn’t find hard to make friends and didn’t find hard to identify Ruby as a keen spirit, though something disturbed them “Ruby no butter?” they wondered, bending their head to the side. Was she trying to be delicate? Leaving more for them? They weren’t eating all of it and they weren’t sure Ruby could like them as much as butter.