"I am craving it right now, but I figured you would like some too. I am not exactly hungry for scones. In fact, please feel free to eat them when you don't have oil all over your hands," she said in some amusement. The girl did not seem bothered at all by the sight of Chéri giving a massage to her poor mistress' foot. She nodded to Chéri after Sonia translated for him, then looked at Sonia with question in her eyes. "That will be all for now, my dear," said the woman in the bed.

She nodded and left the room with a soft click of the door.

Sonia then sighed and relaxed back again, dainty toes curling. "That feels so lovely," she purred and then said, "I invited him here. And yes, I do care if the artist does justice to my portrait... I want it to be bought someday and someone out there will say, 'that might be my daughter.' Perhaps my family might come looking for me."

Chéri smiled and commented “Maybe later I will find someone who would like to feed them to me,” Chéri said, looking down with similar amusement. Also, Chéri did not expect the girl to be bothered: that was a brothel after all, this was a mild interaction for the local standards.
Chéri waited for Sonia to offer her other foot, than switched to that. They didn’t say it, but rather they waited for the woman to switch their feet.

Chéri smiled and nodded. Then Chéri did a “oooh” with their mouth and added “In that case, though, I’d have him portray me with something from childhood, if possible, with lots of things that said what I knew about me.”

She switched feet when the time came. Her eyes drifted closed and she seemed quite relaxed. "You have magic in those hands of yours," she purred and curled her toes. "I am sure someone will," she sighed in regards to their question, not in a bad way, but as a result of the foot massage. Her eyes opened and she gazed at them for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek. She was not a jealous woman, so it did not occur to her to feel any sort of way about Cheri and Darius.

"He is a very talented man, Darius. He's painted me once before. I should like for him to paint me again," after all, she was his muse in his own words.

Chéri laughed in a less controlled, more boyish way. Chéri made an approval sound and at Sonia’s following observation they added “And maybe then I will show them my hands’ magic” they continued, laughing. Chéri had no idea of the relationship between Sonia and Darius, but they would not have blamed her if she had made assumptions surrounding Darius: they had too.

Chéri shrugged “The portrait he has done of you is pretty.” they conceded. “And I think he will be very happy to paint anything, but you in particular.” They continued.

She sighed softly, feeling more relaxed than she had been in quite some time. "I think that you fit in just fine here," she chuckled and lowered her foot when the time came. Her back even hurt a little less after they pressed just the right buttons of her feet. She looked at them through lowered lashes, contemplating for a moment. Her eyes then closed and she sighed through her nostrils. She stretched herself out and said, "He did a beautiful job on my portrait."

She was Darius' muse, he'd said. She was still riding on that cloud.

Chéri puffed and looked down, continuing to massage her foot. “I know the job” they offered, smiling just like her, in an indirect imitation. Apparently they just couldn’t stop themselves. Chéri felt observed, but said nothing: they wanted this to be a moment of pure relax for Sonia. “The back too? Shoulders? Neck?” Chéri informed themselves. Chéri nodded, without hesitation, but also without any particular enthusiasm. “He is good. And I think he puts special care into his work if he feels the person he is painting sees him. He strikes me as a very lonely man, which is odd, considering how big his family is.” Chéri family was as big if not bigger, but they hadn’t had the chance to grow up with them, not properly, so probably there was some idealisation going on there.

"His family isn't exactly warm and welcoming," she murmured and then replied to their earlier words, "All of what you said, mon petite." She wasn't shy at all, she pulled her nightgown over her head, her back presented to him again and her hair pulled aside. The scar was, again, visible to some degree.

She sighed again through her nose, her toes still curling and releasing as the tension she'd been feeling ebbed out of her limbs. "I just hope you like it here."

Chéri shrugged “I had figured as much.” Chéri didn’t bat an eye when Sonia got rid of her night gown, rather looking around “Do you have some oil suitable for massages?” They asked, stretching their hand while humming a low song. Again, they didn’t ask about the scar, not for now, or they inquired about the tension, that seemed to be somewhat less after the massage.

Chéri puffed, behind her, while looking for said oil, in an alternative form while their waited for her answer and confessed “Oh, I like most places well enough, if they are safe, warm and filled with food. Are you worried I might not?” And they avoided asking the real question: is it important to you that I do?

"There are some on the dressing table," she murmured. Sonia cracked an eye open and gave them a relaxed gaze. The maid came back in with another teacup for Chéri. Sonia said, "Before you leave, would you kindly hand me the lilac oil?" in heavily accented English. The girl nodded and retrieved the bottle that was in a crystal decanter. She offered the bottle to them when the maid left, saying, "This smell always makes me wonder about things that I cannot remember."

At Chéri's unasked question, she opened her other eye and gazed at them for a long moment before answering, "I just want to make sure you in particular are feeling at home here." Yes, it is important, she silently relayed right back.

Chéri nodded and was ready to get up, but Sonia made a request to the maid instead. Chéri waited to be handed the magic potion. It was beautiful “Did you buy this?” They asked, with a secondary meaning that needed first an answer. Chéri smiled and said “It smells like this in Provence, near the coast. The people there make perfumes out of the flowers. They have been doing that since before my grandfather.” Which, in Chéri’s own unique language, meant “for centuries.”

Sonia looked at them and Chéri looked back. They knew not to put anything in their eyes when looking at her. Sonia was his peer and and such they were sure she could read them as much as they could read her. Chéri smiled and shook their head “I don’t remember what it is like to feel home. I am not even sure what it should feel like anymore. But so far, I am happy enough here.”