Francis looked a little intimidated by the fancy food but then smiled as he ate, picking whichever silverware he liked. The words had him looking at Chéri. He didn't need more of an example before gesturing to himself.

"Scotland! Francis... Scotland! Hebrides, Scotland." Was Scotland a word she knew? It didn't matter, he couldn't begin to guess what it was in French if it wasn't. He gestured to them. "Chéri... France? Paris France?" It was the only city he knew.

Chéri also had only a vague idea of what silverware went for what and was generally very messy, but liked to take it slow, in this case, as a form of celebration. His was really improvisation.

“Scotland,” Chéri replied, staring with big eyes at Francis. “Scotland?” They looked around, as if they could find it. Chéri nodded. Paris, France was good enough for them and after all they had lived there a very long time. Euskadi and Ainoha meant nothing to most people.

Francis took whichever fork or spoon looked the fanciest to eat with. He grinned towards his new friend as they looked confused by Scotland. At least he'd gotten Paris right, not that he knew of many other places in France. Did he know any? Maybe if he wracked his brain, he could come up with another.

He snapped his fingers in thought and grabbed a cup. "England", he gestured to the cup and pointed to the top right side, "Whitby." And then he grabbed another cup and put it against the cup against the topside of the cup. "Scotland is above England because we are better." He said playfully.

The french-english lesson had turned into a geography lesson and Chéri stared with great interest. They had a vague idea of the concept of cardinal points and lands, and knew what an island was. If England was an island, probably so was Scotland.

“France?” Chéri then asked, turning a finger around the rest of the cups, trying to make out where that might possibly be.

Francis hadn't looked at many maps in his life, so he squinted a bit at the area of 'France'. He reached over to it and gently moved it to where he thought France would be and immediately grabbed a saucer for Spain to help. "France." He nodded pointing to it then to the other one just below. "Spain." He smiled towards Cheri and took another bite of food. "Paris..." He said in thought and gestured towards the lower middle part of 'France', he wasn't certain completely where Paris was.

Francis kept explaining. Chéri looked at the “map”. Now, “Spain” didn’t sound exactly the same in French or in Basque, but they knew that that word also didn’t sound like Germany or other places. They also had been cast in a Don Quixote ballet, so they knew that the place was considered southern and exotic. Chéri pointed between Spain and France and said “Chéri.” Then moved their fingers up to the middle of “France” and “Paris” and then up to the middle of England “Whitby”. They concluded, telling Francis something about their personal history.

Francis looked closely and nodded as he got it and smiled. So Chéri had traveled. He gestured towards Scotland but grabbed some bread and shredded. Piece and put the pieces on the top left of the map. "Islands, Hebrides." He explained and then pointed close to the center, near the left of the pile of crumbs.

"Home." He said softly and then moved his finger to the mainland and then his finger went down mostly along the left coast line before it cut through the middle and back up where Whitby was. "Now." He said and looked to Chéri. Whitby was not home, but then no place would be again to him, that seemed clear.

Chéri needed an extra moment to make out what the crumbs might be. They narrowed their eyes. It didn’t make sense for them to be boats. It didn’t make sense for them to be towns, they were off the land. The word for French was pronounced different, despite a similar orthography. So Chéri needed an extra moment. “Ooooh” they said. They pointed at a crumb specifically “Hebrides?” They couldn’t know Francis meant plural.

Chéri followed the finger and asked, a little confused “Whitby?” The knew what “home” meant in theory, but not in practice. Chéri stared at Whitby. How had they ended up there? But then again, how had they ended up anywhere in this world outside of their little village? Too much introspection, best to prioritise tea. Chéri took France and poured themselves some.

Francis tried to think on how to explain himself. "Hebredes.." He circled his finger around all of the crumbs,then pointed back at one spot in particular. "Home.. born here.." Then his hand returned to the last spot. "Whitby, now."

He knew it was hard to explain and tried to think how to explain islands. He started to tear up more bread and placed them in random spots. "Isle of Man.." A much larger piece. "Ireland." Some smaller pieces in further places. "Iceland. Sicily.." He was really stretching his geography skills but hoped something would show these were all islands to Cheri.

“Hebredes.” Chéri repeated, to learn the word itself as best as they could. “Home… name?” Chéri wanted to know if the island had a name, for the circle had cleared that Hebrides was just the general name of the archipelago.

Francis started to tear off bread and Chéri showed both their hands and shook their head. It wasn’t necessary. They had gotten the concept. They had never gone on to become a sailor after all, but they still recognised at least one of those names as an island name. “Francis, Whitby. Why?”