Chéri did not seem to mind Zechariah having booze as his priority. Here it was warm, they were unlikely to run into undesirable company and they had been promised a job. Waiting wasn’t a problem and looking weird wasn’t either.

Chéri shrugged and smiled a little apologetically, but at this point they bent their heads, confused. And as Zechariah made a secondary suggestion, Chéri nodded “Then I will be Pierre, if that pleases you.” The usual “call me what you want” shtick would have probably applied quite fittingly here. The man had proactively decided to help them, so their looks must have not been too alarming, but Chéri was starting to get a little bit nervous. In the past, their very feminine appearance had already become disturbing to men after a while, even though they did very little to hide it, so they should stay put, ready for any form of rage.

After all, they didn’t know Zechariah that well, nor how illegal it was in England to… well, exist as someone like them.

“And you?” They asked to their new employer.