Probably not. When the maids were potty-training them, Fater was drilling the implicit social contract of being inside a home and defecating in the right place.

… Also, Muter pulled that one first.

He waved a dismissive hand at her renegotiation, which could mean anything from unintentionally ceding by way of forgetting they had renegotiated it in the first place to digging his heeled, pointed shoes as deep into this as humanly possible.

Zechariah nodded at her vivid assertion. Yes! Clearly Nesah was going to come back, dressed as a French soldier with bounty posters and whatever notices France issued for crossdressing crimes.

“You would know,” he tsked with a smirk.

Zechariah watched as she jumped out of a moving cart, moving nothing but his judgmental face in the process. Did he expect anything more of her? Hardly. The cart came to an abrupt stop, driver looking concerned.

“Keep going!” Zechariah yelled.

A couple curtains drew open nearby, well-to-do faces peering like they were the next circus.