No, Percy was definitely not going to remain ridiculous forever. He didn't need to protect himself from being arrested or killed by the French army for helping save people from the guillotine. Now that all the secrets were revealed and there was no lie left between him and Marguerite, Percy was more than content to just being himself. But even with that, it was sometimes difficult to shake the ridiculous facade he had worn. But sometimes making light of something was Percy's way of dealing with something. Though obviously in this instance, he'd taken making light of something to the ridiculous extreme.
When Marguerite took his hands in hers, he looked at her, holding her hands tightly within his own. And just like Marguerite could listen when upset, he could listen when he knew he'd been in the wrong. There was no pretense between them any longer, no reason for him to distrust her, so he could listen and be open to things.
"It isn't always clothing and material things for me. That is just how it came out today." He looked at her for some moments. "I am sorry that I upset you, that is the last thing I wanted. I need you, Marguerite. I know I can't do this without you. Trying to find a place in this strange world. You have the theatre, and I am still trying to figure out where I can fall within it." Which perhaps was the true thing that was upsetting Percy. He wasn't exactly certain what job he could qualify for in this place. His knowledge from his education was now two hundred years out of date. So really, what could he possibly do? Spending time in the library reading could only get him so far. He'd consider taking courses at the local university, but again, that required money that they didn't have. And just put him back to square one.
"No, we will not be helpless and we can help in this war." Percy gave a gentle yet firm smile to Marguerite as he squeezed her hands in his. But then a thought struck him. "Why would you even suggest selling yourself, my love?" Because really, while he did actually know that part of her past because Marguerite had confessed as much to the Pimpernel that night at the bridge, he still wanted to know why she would so readily suggest such a thing.