Francis stared at the other in confusion for a moment. He looked down and held up his hands in and counted down. He held up his fingers. "Six. It's been six years. Since.. lewis.." he looked back down at the figure with x's. He wanted to ask about him about anything else. But he didn't know what or how to word it. He looked to the papers. He pointed over. "Have you had a .. Lewis or .. Louise?" He asked pointing to the Lewis that didn't have xs for eyes.

Francis gave an idea. Chéri blinked a few times. Six years was an eternity for them, so long they could barely imagine it. Francis pointed at his lost lover stickman and Chéri was confused. Louise or Lewis? Chéri wasn’t sure what Francis meant. They pointed at the figure and asked “Louise and Lewis? Person?” and gestured “one” with their hand.

Francis seemed deep in thought. He drew a heart around a clearly male figure, and then a female one looking to Cheri expectantly. He pointed to himself and then the male one. "Lewis." He then looked to Cheri and gestured to the heart symbol. "You ever have a .. love? Ah.. amour?" He was sure he'd heard that word somewhere at some point.

Chéri had misunderstood. They tilted their head back, trying to make out the point. Yes, Francis liked men, that much was clear, and his dead male lover was called Lewis. But what about Louise? Who was she? Chéri needed an extra minute. Ah! Amour. How could they explain? They embraced themselves and did the kissing gesture, then drew big circles around with their arms in the air.

A break.

For the second part, they pointed at their heart and shook their head. That was their explanation.

Francis watched Cheri intently. He really tried to make out the hand movements and all. He got the idea in the end that Cheri was alone, at the moment anyway. And nodded. He wanted to let them know that he thought they deserved to be happy whatever that was, but had no way to convey it. He patted their arm and gave a small hopeful smile. Though he wasn't completely sure it came across correctly.

It was probably a good thing that Francis could not convey that answer to Chéri. The reply would have been odd to say the least. Chéri looked somewhere else with half a smirk, not unlike a little rascal. Sometimes, they did act their age, at least a bit. The pat, they did not understand. Chéri shook their head “It’s good” they reassured Francis. Company had always been worse than loneliness for Chéri, unless they were talking money. And even so, Chéri sometimes preferred hunger, danger and the cold, that at least they knew well enough. They had no use for romantic love in their life, wouldn’t even know what to do with it if they felt it. There were a million other things they wanted before that. Chéri pointed at the figure on the drawing and shrugged. They hesitated, clearly wanting to add something.

Francis stared at Chéri and had no clue what they were thinking. They seemed happy though with whatever their situation was so that was what mattered. He knew they wanted to say something and it added to the frustration if being unable to communicate. He pushed the paper and pens to them hoping they could attempt something to convey their thoughts.

Not only Chéri couldn’t write, they weren’t used to holding a pencil either. They stared at the piece of paper and sighed. They tried to imagine what could be described as “family”. They repeated the stickmen, without changing much between them, only their size. There were two big ones, some mid sized ones and some small ones. Chéri drew a heart around them and then patted their chest, smiling with something that vaguely resembled… shyness?

Poor Chéri, they were talking to Francis who looked from the paper to them and back. He smiled but it was clear that he was totally clueless. He wondered what made Chéri shy and wished so hard that there was any inkling in his head what they meant.

Francis did not understand. It was pretty clear. Chéri wondered how they could express the concept of family and started to do something different: they started to draw a small nest with eggs and a mama bird sitting on the edge, then indicated themselves and then one of the eggs. Could that help, perhaps?

Francis looked at the picture and instantly understood. "Oh! Family! You have siblings!" he nodded instantly and then gestured to Cheri and then pretended to be craddling a baby and gestured to it then pretended to put it down and pick up a couple more babies to cradle to show there were multiple children to one mother.

Chéri nodded. Family! It was almost the same word in French, so it really worked for them. Chéri nodded. Children. Mother. They then put their hands together and gestured, creating a distance. Pointed to one end of the imaginary distance and said “Chéri. Whitby”, than to the other “Famille. Ainoha” and sighed. Then they show both their palms, twice, took down two fingers and indicated themselves. They were clearly feeling “chatty”.

Francis gave them a sad but understanding smile. "They are far away and you miss them." He nodded a little. "I understand." He gestured towards himself. "We are friends. Like family?" He said. He then gestured to the picture and drew another nest with just an egg all by itself. Then drew the eggs hatching and the two birds hanging out together.

Chéri nodded. They knew what “away” meant and the tone Francis had told them the rest. They also knew what “understand” meat. A long sigh and Chéri turned to the door. Were the damn priests coming back, befor the could make a nuisace of themselves? That would have been a lot of talking for them in any langage. “Friends,” Chéri repeated, half a smile “Francis like friends?” some people preferred to be left alone.

Francis rose his brow when Cheri turned away and sighed looking boredly to the door. He leaned on an elbow and smirked waving a hand. He gestured between them, "Most people like friends. I don't have any, and would like to change that. I have associates. Do you know that word?" He asked since they seemed to not have much trouble with his phrase before.

Chéri nodded. Most people. Not everyone. They took another sigh and shook their heads. They didn’t “Chéri” big gesture with their arms “friends in Paris.” But not here. Quite the opposite.

Francis rose a brow. "Friends can... take time. Maybe you'll find friends in Whitby."He said and just then heard someone come through the front door. "Ah!" He let out a small squeak of surprise. He immediately grabbed everything off the table, including their 'art' and scooped it into a bin and pushed it aside. He waved Cheri to come so the could run out the back and pretend to have had nothing to do with it.