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"I admire lots of things I don't want to be," he shrugs.

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"Like what?"

She really ought to be getting to know him more diligently than she has. She suspects that's a prerequisite for falling in love. For her, at least.
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"You?"

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She laughs. "I meant more specifically. Qualities, not entire people."

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He shrugs again. "I don't know, then."

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"So you just sort of admire me as a vague entire thing with no characteristics?" she inquires archly.

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"No," he says. "You have characteristics - I don't know which ones I like so much, that's the trouble."

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"Ah," Belle laughs. "That sounds frustrating."

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"It would frustrate you."

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"Yes. It would. It doesn't you?"

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"I don't frustrate easily," he says cheerfully.

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"Are you even curious about it?"

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He shrugs. "A little."

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"Well, I am," says Belle. "I've - a handful of people have claimed to be in love with me before. But these were always people who'd barely spoken to me. Who thought I was pretty and knew nothing more about me than than that. If that was any kind of love I don't think it was a worthwhile sort. But if my merely looking as I do sufficed for you - for the curse - then I'd have seen it the first time I looked at the fondement, I think."

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"I don't love you because you're pretty," he says. "You are, and I love it, but that's not what made the difference. I love you because you're—beautiful. Like thunderstorms."

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"I'm like thunderstorms?" Belle asks. "I didn't understand this the first time you mentioned it, and still don't, I'm sorry."

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"I mean..."

He trails off, thinks, then starts again.

"What's most beautiful about you is your nature - what you are, what you do. How you think, how you speak, what you say. Thunderstorms are beautiful for the same reasons—not the same things, not the same qualities, but the same... parts of them. Their essence and how they express it in the world."
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"Is there," Belle says, "anything much to anyone that is not their essence and how they express it in the world?"

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"I suppose not," he says.

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"So that doesn't really answer my curiosity, but I suppose you tried," she laughs.

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He laughs, too.

"I'm sorry. But it's true. I love you because you are the person that you are and you act the way you do."
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"You," the Beast observes, "are blushing."

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Belle touches her cheeks. "...Maybe."

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"You are! I love it," he declares. "I love you blushing."

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