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.