The woman frowned at him. She didn't rise to the bait this time but only nodded to him and to say, "Bienvenue," in an absentminded manner. She at least paid attention enough to keep from overfilling the cup. This time she did walk away at a slower pace. An older man came out and said, "I am closing early, my daughter needs me. I have some leftover stew if either of you want some. I'll trust you to lock up when you are done."

She glanced over at him in bewilderment and he feigned a look of helplessness. He had been listening to the way the man talked and his amusement was such that he was instigating something rather interesting. He was only going for a walk into the market and back, he wasn't lying so much because he needed to pick up medicine for his daughter, but he would be back before she even knew it and he would be watching to see how this young man intended to interact with the sullen young woman he'd taken in. At least she was willing to work, but good lord, she needed her feathers ruffled.

Cerise caught the look in his eyes and grew suspicious that he was up to something. "You know good and well I think you need to eat something more, that small bowl of oats isn't going to keep you awake." He whispered that to her once he had pulled her into the kitchen.

She went beet red, "But..."

"You need to rest anyway," he hissed out, "Shoo. Just do it." He waved her away.

And before she could protest further, he sort of pushed her out backwards into the dining room and she could hear the slamming of the back door almost the instant she was in the room again, as if somehow he gained super human speed. Mon dieu, she thought with a wide eyed gaze at the door that had been closed in her face.

She counted to three, looked over her shoulder toward the man with the strange disposition, one who felt it was adorable to tease her. "The owner has to tend to something regarding his daughter, so he is closing for the rest of the day. But he says you can have the stew for free today as an apology for any inconvenience." She would not be flirting with this man, much to the old man's disappointment as he would find out later. The old fart was a mischief maker as much as the man who was dressed as a cowboy.

She grabbed her dishes and took them to the back then, muttering and pretending to make busy just to give herself a chance to relax before she brought the stew out. When she returned, it was served to him with another bit of bread, this time warmed up and fluffy. She set a crock of butter out for him as well as some more of that honey, should he want it.