continued from here with @bolsteriing
A week before, the offhand grunt would have sent LeFou rocketing into the rafters, that species-old, atavistic kernel of his mind reading into a glottal death threat that wasn’t actually there. But in a matter of days he had become relatively jaded to the curiosities populating this secret sphere of reality. It wasn’t that he was particularly open-minded––no, LeFou was as tightly packed into the proverbial herd as the rest of Villeneuve, stampeding off towards the cliff on the collective understanding that it was definitely the right direction–– but when the clocks began to literally, verbally tell you what time it was, your foundation for “normal” begins to crack a bit.
“Creature? No–– no, you’re right, I’m awful at that. Taxonomy always fell more within Gaston’s range of talents, um––” He cleared his throat. “But I’ve been around enough people–– enough types of people–– to be a half-decent judge of character.” This was debatable on several accounts, but he blithely pressed on.
“You’re not a bad person.” He shrugged and conceded, “Not a great host either, but regardless…”
The Beast scowled, not finding the man’s offhand comment regarding Taxonomy amusing in the slightest. This was not the time for jokes, particularly regarding his sad state of affairs.
Somehow the presence of this man only made his life more difficult; he had no way of ending this damn curse and all he did was force introspection on his situation. At least when the Beast had been alone he could forget everything, forget he was alive. He could distract himself with sleep and by slinking through the halls, occasionally making his way through the woods, embracing the monster he was.
“I assure you, that is not the first time I have been criticized of my host duties,” the Beast snarled, “but at least the last person to do so didn’t pretend to try and make me feel better. She made her thoughts on what type of person I was quite clear.”
