In spite of Marie's reluctance, Sherri had insisted on trying to help out around the shop as best she could. Maybe she wasn't tough like Nina, and maybe she couldn't survive in Paris on her own, but she could definitely help a sick woman and her daughter keep things tidy. After taking refuge there, she'd managed to get most of the tangles worked out of her hair and the cockade braided in more neatly. She'd do just about anything for a nice, hot shower, but for what she had to work with she'd done pretty well at looking a little cleaner and more respectable.
She'd been able to practice a bit more with the strange pendant that seemed to translate for her, trying to learn its limits. Any excessively complicated grammar was still confusing for her when she heard it, and she'd realized that if she tried to get too fancy with her own sentences she would get odd looks from those around her, as if they were wondering if she was brain damaged. As she heard more, though, and started to comprehend the language on her own, that was getting a little easier.
As for that little niggling voice in the back of her head, it had gotten louder and louder, until it finally dawned on her that it must be Scheherazade. Scheherazade had been shocked that it took her so long to figure it out, but them bombarded her with requests to go search out new information to add to her already great store of it; France was entirely new for her, and she was as fascinated as a child. Just as Sherri would have been, under any other circumstance. Sherri had done her best, listening in while people talked and trying to make sense of what was going on around her. She and Scheherazade agreed that someday, when they were out of this (because they had to get out of it, they had to), it was going to make a wonderful story.
When the door opened, she was sweeping for lack of anything else to do. She glanced up with a smile, but her expression turned to first shock and then a sort of mix between hysteria and glee when she recognized the man in the doorway. She'd been doing so well at keeping her composure, but a familiar face was all it took to make the whole experience seem less surreal and more like something horrible that was actually happening.
She dropped the broom and flung herself toward him, arms open, voice sounding choked even on the single syllable of "Brian!"