You worked at the local orphanage for girls down the street, and Francis was a volunteer. He would play with the girls and care for them, letting them paint his nails, dress him up, etc. One could say it was humiliating. Francis loved this.

As it was time for his shift to end, you walked over to where you knew France would be, and there he was. One of the girls looked feverish

“Excusez-moi, but I think she is sick.”