People were suspicious of Chéri. It was just a fact of life. And because they were bratty and defiant by nature and enjoyed doing their absolute worst with it, they even pouted their lips and started humming an absolutely normal song in French, but making it sound much sleazier simply by the way they snag that.

Chéri held Ruby closer because she was a friend and they could use some genuine warmth. Chéri extended an arm to reach the tea on their own.

“Ruby no cook?” Chéri asked. They turned to Bonita, wondering silently if she was going to feed them somehow.

“Triste,” was Chéri brief answer “Chéri need musique,” they tried to explain. They wanted to make something that felt good out of this day, something that felt easy and closer to them. Not work. They were under the impression their life, here, had turned into only work, the way it had been in their native village.