It had been a few days since Chéri had arrived in town. Once they had started to settle down at the Diamond Pony, it was now time for them to get acquainted with the town. Whitby wasn’t Paris, once again, but it also wasn’t their village or the god forsaken gothic place they had recently escaped. Where most of their jewels, summer clothes, accessories and every day necessities still were. And were probably going to stay.

Chéri sighed, looking into a shop window. Even if they wanted to buy something, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Sure, their new place of employment granted them more than the bare necessities, but it was not the life of luxury they had once lived. Also, their well-trained body ached for the chance at exercise, feeling under stimulated.

They turned and started walking down the street. Their best shot, realistically, was to find their first local client. How they would chat them up for up for discussion, but some things needn’t words. On that, they could count.

Raising their chin, they found someone in front of them. And just like many times before, a man had found them before Chéri could properly start looking for one. And his expression left no doubt in Chéri’s mind: this man wanted something from them. What that was was up for discussion. “I am sorry, monsieur, I don’t understand you,” Darius looked well-off enough to be educated, at least in their eyes. And in Chéri’s world, well educated Englishmen spoke French.