} myfateismychoice
Belle smiled, taking the tea cup. She ran her thumb over the rim, speaking softly, “I’m- I’m glad you two understand.” She looked up. “It is my choice. And I’ve built my own life, with friends- people like you two, who’ve got my back. I understand that— it’s not easy to change, but he is trying. And that means a lot to me. We’re taking it slow.” She sipped at the tea and god it helped her relax immediately.
“…Jefferson- he’s a fellow here in town- was the one who let me out. Before the curse was broken, mind you,” Belle explained. “He told me to find Mr. Gold- I was confused, and when I found him, I didn’t know it was Rumpelstiltskin but he was— oh, the look on his face.” She sighed, smiling again.
“…But you two have been here the whole time?” She tilted her head, turning the subject from herself to them. “What have you been doing?”
“Not a lot. Surviving.” Basile laughed a little, leaning forward in his seat to jerk a not-too subtle thumb back at Albert. “As much as one can, at any rate, my dear. But, as well, doing what we love, I think,” And here he glanced bnack at Albert as if to verify that. Well, he was working as the head of a kitchen and Albert got to boss around housekeeping staff. What more could they really want from life, all things considered?
Albert nodded in confirmation, chuckling a little into his teacup. He took a sip of the hot liquid, setting it down with a clink as he considered Belle's question. "I would say so." He nodded. "I don't know if he told you, but Basile cooks at Granny's diner," he leant forwards a little conspiratorially, "and his chicken soup on Wednesdays has queues practically round the block. It's hell to organise, of course, but it's worth it. Even if I do have to put up with his bragging for the rest of the week." He smiled, indicating the joke was much less serious than it sounded.
