Chéri smiled “Am I? I thought you were here to help me, if needed.” Chéri added, very sweetly. “And what do I risk collecting seashells?” Chéri added, putting an inquiring look on their face, while making sure to keep their expression lit up and light, as if they had absolutely no idea what Wesley had been trying to do, despite the uniform. Chéri continued looking for seashell at their own pace, apparently not bothered by Wesley presence. Every now and then they turned to the sea, patiently and looked far away, as if deep in thought.

Wesley shook his head, clearly aggravated. "It isn't the seashells. It's someone young and helpless walking an empty beach. You are lucky I decided to come by."

He folded his arms and looked around, keeping a distance from the boy. "Where are you staying?" He finally asked, as it felt like they'd be there forever.

Chéri stopped for a moment, putting one hand on the top of the other “I have arrived here from the continent, don’t you think I am old and capable enough to be left to my collecting? And what exactly will you be protecting me from? And why do you want to protect me, anyway?” They answered, with a naif tone no one who had met them before would have believed even for ten seconds.

Then they resumed. Wesley was clearly getting tired and asked more important questions. Chéri had somehow the answer ready “I don’t remember. It’s a weird name for me.” The name was weird regardless, but the language was a good excuse.

Wesley rose his brow and frowned at the attitude the guy gave him. "You look like you are maybe thirteen. The fact you went to the beach alone makes me wonder. If you had planned to get seashells why not bring a basket or something small to carry them in?" He grumbled slightly. "There are bad people in the world. They could attack you just because you are alone and look like an easy target. Also, I'm a constable. It's my job to protect people." Protect the right people.

The constable rolled his eyes and folded his arms again. "Where is it?"

Chéri puffed “I am twenty-three” it was, in their mind, more true than, say, thirteen “And if I am as childish as you said, maybe I was too shy to ask for one, maybe I didn’t know how to do that in English, maybe I was just walking by and decided to spontaneously collect seashells or simply, maybe I had nothing better than an apron. I might be some sort of apprentice, like a butcher’s apprentice and my master might have needed the only bucket we have or maybe I decided on a whim to make a beautiful necklace for the woman I love and I wanted to be swift to beat my rival, but I lost myself in the choice.” Chéri had a really thoughtful expression as they said that, contemplating all these possible ideas that they treated with equal realism. Chéri nodded a few times “And don’t you think that here, in the middle of nowhere, I would see the bad people arriving? Wouldn’t it be better for you to look into dark alleys or places where criminals could conveniently hide?” Chéri continued.

Chéri shrugged “In town. I’ll find it again once I walk back, I’m sure, the place doesn’t seem big at all.”

"I believe most of your possible reasons as much as I believe your age." Wesley frowned more. "And leave it to someone young to think only alleyways hide people with evil intent. Maybe at night, but some like to wander empty spaces like this. You are going along the beach so you are not looking behind yourself that much and you would never hear soft footsteps over the waves." Had he done such a thing? Never. But he could guess how they think.

He shook his head. "I think you are lying if you are trying to tell me you have been in town long enough to decide to go to the beach for shells and do not have any idea where you live."

Ironically, at least some of what Chéri had said was not wrong. And when having to confront all those suspicions, Chéri decided they needed a different strategy if they wanted to avoid a slow, excruciating escalation.
They stopped, tied their apron to their belt, making sure the seashells weren’t going to fall off, then walked to Wesley, arms along their sides, a sweet smile on their face “Am I under arrest? Did I commit some form of crime? Do you see anyone dangerous around here?” They stood in front of Wesley with the solemnity they had learnt from seeing a bishop once and bent their head slightly like a grand lady they had had the chance to observe at the opera.
As petite as they were from a close distance they displayed muscles that no child could possibly have, they had an Adam’s apple and even though their face was indeed very delicate and feminine at a close inspection it was possible to see signs of facial hair, even if it had been properly shaved off in the morning. Besides that, Chéri had actually giant feet for their stature.

"Someone unknown wandering an empty beach is always suspicious. But you are not under arrest, yet." Wesley frowned as he was once again fooled. The guy before him was indeed a man, though he looked different from a distance, it did not mean his original concept was wrong at all.

"You have been unable to tell me who you are with if anyone, where you are staying, why you are in town, or even who you are. I am being kind to keep an eye out for you since it would be so easy for you to disappear and no one knowing you even existed. But you could also be the one trying to lure innocent people close to rob them or take them out."

Chéri shrugged “You didn’t ask me who I was, or my name, you asked me if I was a lost tourist and/or a child, which I am not. Then you decided it was absurd for me to speak French and that the seashell made no sense.” Chéri looked down and showed briefly what they had collected, with a triumphant grin. The orange, blue and yellow shells glimmered in the sun and they looked beautiful, clustered inside the apron. “Aren’t they beautiful?” They asked, before looking up again, tying their apron “as for the rest, I told you. The place is small. Worst case scenario, I will have to go around once or twice more. I am in no hurry and getting to know the place isn’t bad.”

“If you are worried I might hurt someone, search me. You will find no weapon on me.” Chéri shrugged, lifting their arms, waiting for a reaction “As far as the rest… I am literally walking barefoot in the ocean, why would anyone think they can make something off of kidnapping me?” Trafficking was a very solid idea, actually, but Chéri wasn’t going to suggest that.

Wesley's mustache twitched and he narrowed his eyes. "I didn't say it was ridiculous. I said it was ridiculous to only speak french and be alone. Most people around here could not help you if you needed it. And you claimed you didn't know the way home. You can't have been here for very long. Or..." He seemed to be in thought and looked over the young man. "You keep moving locations."

He looked side to side. "Why are you barefoot so far from home? You could be hiding a weapon where you hid your shoes.." His voice lowered as he eyed their surroundings. "Just because you like shells do not mean they are the only reason you are here. But as for others, some people don't attack others for their possessions." He didn't finish speaking what he was thinking, if this 'man' was smart, he wouldn't have to.