Sonia, normally a strong and active presence, was out of sight. She lay in her bed, the sickness from the child weakening her at the moment. She'd been ill several times that morning and now she was just so very tired that the thought of leaving her bed left her exhausted. Her maid came and went, checking on the woman, but left her be for the most part. The doctor was sent for.

Dr. Witaker came and went, and a a bunch of people crowded around the bottom of the stairs in concern for the woman who was doing too much to try to make things better for them. "She needs rest and mustn't do too much. Her child is taxing upon her." And he would answer the questions that were bandied his way.

"Well, perhaps we should take turns sitting with her so she isn't alone, the poor lamb," said one.

The madame shook her head, "For now, we go on as normal."

There was a certain tension in the air as the group continued to look upward toward the door of that lavish room but nobody seemed to want to intrude upon the woman when the last thing she needed was to be left alone completely.

Meanwhile, Sonia rested. She was deep in thought as she rested her head on the pillow. Rest, the doctor had said. How could she rest when there were things to be done?! The child moved and she felt the world tilt just a little, glad for the fact her head was already on the pillow.

With a frustrated sigh, she rolled out of the bed, or rather... tried to roll out of bed.

Chéri had not been at the Diamond Pony long, which was probably why they knew little to nothing about the internal dynamics. They walked right pass through the group of courtesans debating what needed to be done at the bottom of the stairs, making a frothy gestures towards them, while they played with a newly acquired feather fan and gingerly played with it, approaching the owners room. Chéri was humming a song under their breath and wore the peach three-piece-suit, one of the two outfits they had managed to bring to Whitby with them. They walked so lightly that, hadn’t it been for the singing, their presence would have been undetectable.

“Madame Carringtòn” they said in French “would you like some company? Perhaps something warm as well?” No filter, not hesitation, no hidden meaning.

She sighed and rolled onto her back again just as they entered the room. She looked at them with a tired expression, nodded, and relaxed back. Sonia was pale, her face a little gray tinged. "I could use the company, oui." she murmured and gestured for them to come closer if they so pleased. "I didn't realize that growing a child could get so complicated. But then the doctor came and told me there was a second heartbeat." She choked out, "Two children." She covered her face.

"Oh, please sit. I am sorry."

She was stressed and that wasn't helping either. Who wouldn't be upon learning that they were carrying not one, but two children belonging to a sociopath. Please, she thought, do not let them be like their father!

Chéri looked back, a light smile on their faced, as they approached at a slow, controlled pace. Chéri looked around and then looked back at her, their thoughts tucked away as usual. And yet, something was visible: some tenderness appearing in their expression as they came close.
“That is a lot to think about. Do you already know where you want to raise them?” It wouldn’t be weird to ask that in a brothel. The choices were limited and very well defined.

Chéri nodded and picked the bed, crossing their legs and putting the palms on the mattress, then leaned back and smiled. “I can see that makes you nervous. Is that the only reason?”

"No..." She stared up at the ceiling for a moment. "I am nervous because I'm afraid they will be like their father... I have to make sure that doesn't happen." Her eyes drifted closed and she went on to say, "Added to that, my body seems to be rebelling against me. The doctor said it was probably due to everything that happened. I feel as though my back is killing me, my ankles are swollen, and I feel like hell, and..." She sighed and shook her head, "I need to calm myself... don't I?"

She felt like a whining brat at that point and guilt ate at her.

Chéri stared at her, patiently and as he was asked a direct question he put a hand on his chest and exclaimed, no hesitation “Lord, prevent me from ever telling any woman to calm down.” And then smiled in his bright way. He then winked and put his hands back, giving her a moment to laugh or disapprove of his attitude.

Chéri smiled sweetly and then, with a pensive attitude, puff and commented “Until they come out, we cannot know about their personality. That’s just that. What happened can’t be changed. On your feet and back we can work. Would you like a feet massage?” He suggested, not bothered in the slightest.

"That would be wonderful," she murmured and then said, "Thank you." She shifted then, feeling her back was due first and her feet would be fine for a bit. She pushed her long hair aside over one shoulder, and he might then observe the scar that parted her hairline in the back that looked like it had come from a nasty blow to the head. It wasn't deliberate, of course, it was done to get her hair out of the way of their hands. She had half a mind to pull her shift up and over and to have them use the oil she had made specifically with her scent of lilac because it soothed her.

She wasn't about to make those demands upon them though, much as she wanted such attentions to her back. "I appreciate your efforts, Chéri... How have you been doing since we last spoke?"

Chéri smiled triumphantly and waited for her to present her foot, as he adjusted his pose to make it comfortable for them both. He saw the scar on Sonia’s hairline and blinked then turned, for the moment. He wasn’t going to ask he right away. The waited for her to bare her foot -assuming she didn’t want him to oil her stockings- then proceeded to take it in his hand. Chéri didn’t have big hands, but they were long, capable and very strong.

Chéri didn’t make reference to other potential massages. He was going to start with the feet, which he knew he could handle easily. Also, despite everything, it was a less intimate touch and even though they both were in the sex trade, he wasn’t going to assume that Sonia was okay with that sort of contact. Chéri shrugged “It is different here, but not as much as I thought. For example, I have resumed posing for artist. I have met your friend Darius by the way.” He said, as he masterfully brought every part of her foot were it was supposed to be and rubbed to relax it, with lots of patience.

She wasn't really wearing stockings, she was dressed in a silk nightgown. When they took her foot in hand and began to massage it, she ended up laying back and relaxing deeply... That is until they brought Darius up. She tensed a little, not in a bad way, but it was as if that name put a spark of life into her. "Ah, Darius," she said, almost as a purr. "He does such a wonderful job painting," she murmured. "He will do justice to your portrait." She closed her eyes and a ghost of a smile appeared on her lips.

The woman was obviously harboring affection for the artist, perhaps even love. But she did not speak of that aspect of her strange relationship with the brother of her dead husband. She sighed as they hit a particularly tender spot in her poor, swollen foot, her toes curling. "That feels lovely, mon petite," she sighed again.

A knock was on the door and the mute girl came in with a tray of tea and scones, though there was only one cup. Sonia lazily glanced over to the girl and said in her accented English, "Please, Maggie, will you bring another cup? Write this down for the chef: Onion soup and some extra bread." She would not be eating scones, her stomach sort of churned at the thought. Sonia looked at Chéri and said, "Is there anything you would like?"

Chéri could very easily feel the tension in her. Chéri shrugged “I don’t care much for that. Many have painted me in Paris. As long as they pay me, they can whatever they want,” a little bit sad a perspective, but a lucrative one and money had been at the center of Chéri’s life for a long time. “Do you care?” They asked, curious. Chéri kept massaging and smiled sweetly “I had a friend who called me that in Paris, some time ago” they smiled sweetly, without stopping. They were going to pamper that foot specifically just a little bit more.

“Have you seen Darius recently?” Maybe Chéri already knew the answer and wanted to know just how much Sonia wanted to share. The word “confidant” had been thrown around after all. Maybe they didn’t and were just trying to make small talk with what they had.

A girl came with some tea. Chéri smiled and seemed rather happy to hear that “Oh, I love onion soup. Are you having it made for me?” Asked Chéri, putting a palm on their chest in an exaggerated gesture of appreciation. Then she asked. Chéri laughed “I love onion soup and if you have some bread with a nice, crisp crust I’d be delighted. I miss brasseries.” They confessed, putting their hand back on her foot.