The sound of her voice was sweet as she plied a rag to the top of a table, cleaning up the last of the mess from breakfast rush. She was glad for lulls in service so she could make sure it was ready for the next person or group of people. The Frenchwoman sang in a husky tone, her movements so fluid as to give away that she could have been a dancer. She was... though nobody knew that in these parts yet. She heaved a sigh as she wiped up one last crumb, about to sit down for a moment while she had a chance. Her bowl of porridge was cold by that point, but it was waiting for her in the back. She had been given permission to warm her meal if she needed to, so she wasn't worried.

Cerise grabbed the bucket of suds and dropped the rag into it, moving to tuck it in the nook that had been built for it. She was already tired from her toils and her stomach was gurgling angrily in anticipation for the meal that awaited her. She headed for the kitchen, but gave pause, looking back over her shoulder to make sure all was set for the next rush. Hopefully, she would get to sit down soon. Her feet ached a little more than she would have liked them to. Perhaps it was from the lack of space to stretch and dance.

Samuel had dragged himself into the tavern sometime around when Cerise had finished the tables and returned her bucket. Sporting the fashionable look of someone who had just spent the night finding the bottom of as many bottles as he could he staggered over to a table and flopped into the chair with all the grace of a dead fish being thrown on a table. his clothing was disheveled, hat pulled down to further shield his eyes from light. His light brown duster clearly had mud on it in various places. for a long time he didn't even bother looking for a waitress or anything. he sat in his chair, looking at the table as though seeing something completely different, then his head fell forward with a lovely thud. His hat rolled off his head and managed to overturn before falling off the table. clearly the drink had by far and away gotten the better of him, and a low pathetic groan rolled from his throat.

Her reprieve was cut short before it even got started as she watched the fellow who looked to be one of those... cow folks. Seeing the state he was in caused her to roll her eyes heavenward and grab for the nearest loaf of bread. "Monsieur, a man has come in after being in his cups, I am taking him bread to start." The man grunted in reply and gestured to the abundance of loaves. She sliced it and added butter and honey to it, as honey would help with the man's hangover, she thought mildly as she moved back out into the dining room. "Monsieur, please wake up," she said in a neat accent. She was fairly fluent with English, but her accent was heavy enough to notice. "I have some bread for you," she chirped cheerfully and set the basket down before him with a deliberate thump that was loud enough to wake the dead. "Please, eat." And then she moved to serve him some of the coffee that was readily available. She would want a cup too, she thought, hoping she could get to her damned bowl of food. Her stomach growled loudly, interjecting an opinion of it's own.

"Sshhhh! ain't no need to yell." he said this without lifting his head, he said the next pit to himself, but it was still loud enough to hear while he mocked an English accent...with no skill or accuracy at all,"'oi try this! no better drink in whitby!' Lyin tea swillin biscuit munchin mother FUCKER!" The last word was spoken a little louder and more sharply than the rest. Speaking English, yes. but he had a thick southern US accent. when he finally lifted his head it was with what seemed like a great effort, eyes squinted so that only the faintest of light blue was visible past the lids. "thank you..." he began to eat at the bread slowly, but heard her stomach growl shortly after he started, "ma'am i think you could use a helpin yerself." with that he pushed some a bit toward her, taking a slow drink of coffee. he had noticed the accent as well but he had no idea what it was, he had barely heard of France let alone knew what people from there sounded like, but right now the world as spinning just a little too much for him to be too curious about things. regardless of if she took some bread or not he would continue eat on it, going slow so as not to get reacquainted with his dinner from the night before

She paused and lifted a brow at the man as he began to cuss like a sailor. Cerise had heard plenty of those things on her way to England. It did not bother her, though it certainly did amuse her. "I cannot eat your food, Monsieur," she said, knowing that wasn't true but not wanting to feel as though she owed him something, she did not wish to rely on anyone but herself. "I do have a meal waiting for me, but I can wait. Is there something you wish to eat beyond just bread? We have a hearty stew, I think it is rabbit today."

Her blue gaze watched him for a moment and then she said, "You look like you could use more coffee, too. There is plenty. The bread is free to you, and I will give you the next cup for free if you decide you'd like the stew."

he shrugged when she turned down the bread, still eating slowly while resting his head in his left hand. "maybe in a bit ma'am. let see if i can avoid paintin this table with my dinner first." He certainly seemed to have no trouble saying what he was thinking at least. "you go on and eat yer own food and we'll see how i'm feelin after." he looked straight at her now, for being a disheveled drunk he looked to be fairly young. Sam really hadn't been much outside of bars since he arrived in Whitby a few days ago, and while he looked pretty rough at the moment it was clear excess drinking was not the norm for him. "Oh uh one more thing ma'am before you go...Could you walk away slowly? it sure would help me feel better this mornin." He smiled sweetly at her, his expression half playful and half serious on his request. Well being hungover clearly didn't mean he was any less of a young idiot at heart, his smile continued as though he had done no more than ask for an appetizer.

While he was rather easy to look at, she couldn't deny that, she was put off by his words. Annoyance flickered in her eyes as he told her to walk slowly. Walk slowly indeed. She did not and would not walk slowly. She marched, or rather, nearly floated out of the room to get her bowl of food. Now, normally she was supposed to eat in the kitchen, but when she explained the situation, the man gave her the bowl and nodded appreciatively. "You need to eat, Cerise, in any case. I need to keep you from fainting on the job." He was a kind man who had given her a chance, and she was quite sure he wasn't interested in her beyond a fatherly way that he seemed to take on in the weeks since he'd hired her. He was an older man and his son was glad to have her around since he had just married and they had a child recently.

She set the bowl on the top of the bar and began to dig in. To her surprise, it wasn't cold. And there was some fruit in there, notes of cinnamon and sugar. She appreciated her employer. She ate quietly, paying little attention to the man as he nursed his coffee.

Sam Smiled as she marched away, not a malicious smile in any way. Rather it was one a child might get after getting on the nerves of someone they were trying to annoy. He didn't know why he did it, or why it amused him, but it did and that was the main point. He didn't push any further for a few minutes, she was cute, but Sam was too immature at heart to have controlled himself. instead he focused on the bread for now, and soon found himself well over half way through it. He was already starting to feel a little better, his head still hurt, but it was easing off. He no longer felt like he was going to lose the contents of his gut should he move just the wrong way. Sam stood for a moment, long enough to remove his duster and hang it over an empty chair at his table. he wore simple clothing underneath, a blue shirt and black trousers held in place by his gun belt(spared the mud thanks to the duster). in addition to what was surely a loaded colt .44-40 he had an additional 12 cartridges in the loops on his belt. he stretched with a sigh, then sat back down to his meal with a thud, still not able or willing to be polite in his movements. Now and again he would glance at cerise.

She didn't seem to pay him any mind other than a glance here and there. She was more interested in her food, taking the time she needed to eat. She gave a deep sigh as if in thought, wanting nothing more than to find the nearest stage and bare her soul for the people of Whitby as a dancer, not that Whitby was a good place to start but... where else could she go? She eyed him at one point, catching him glance her way, not that she seemed to mind either way. For the moment, she was indifferent. She finished her small meal and moved to take care of her dishes. She set them aside for the moment and moved over to him to pour another cup of coffee. "There you go," she murmured.

That look of indifference she gave made him smile. She didn't outright hate him even after his comment, some people would call that a win. He had finished pretty much the entire loaf of bread at this point and was leaning back in his chair, finishing the last of the coffee just before she came over. He held his cup out ,"thank you ma'am." He had noticed her lost in though expression, the deep sigh. she looked like someone who wanted to be somewhere else doing something else. He knew that look. he had made it himself many times a few years back. Sam being Sam though he couldn't just ask her what was on her mind like a normal person. instead after she had poured him more coffee he spoke, "You look like something is on yer mind ma'am. If it was my comment made you feel that way I'm sorry...you can walk away at regular pace too, its still a great show."