"Oh! Well, then you should be in a good mood, because there's hope," says Chelise merrily. Pet pet pet pet pet.

He snorts derisively.

"What?" asks Chelise. "I don't think you'd be so hard to love. I don't think I am. I don't know about Belle."

"Never mind," he sighs.

"Oh, won't you tell me? I suppose you needn't."

"It seems to me," he says, "that after a hundred and fifty years of this, I can be in whatever mood I please."

"Of course you can," says Chelise. "I didn't mean that you had to - I'm sorry, my Callian isn't perfect even now, some of my little siblings speak it like natives but I was already twelve when we moved."

He snorts again, but snuggles his head into her lap.

Pet pet pet pet. They can agree on pettings, can't they? Chelise wants to get along, look how hopeful she is.

They can agree on pettings! The Beast is still soft and fluffy and pettable, and he likes the way her hands feel in his fur.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"I - just doubt that's your name? It doesn't seem very polite of her to call you that, does it?"

"I told her to," he says. "You don't like her very much, do you."

"I hardly know her - and I like most everyone! I don't think she likes me," says Chelise sadly.

"What gave you that impression?"

"Oh, mostly how she looked at me when she talked to me in the front hall," says Chelise.

"I'll ask her," says the Beast.

"Do you think she'd know? Or tell you?" asks Chelise dubiously.

He laughs. "Of course she will."

"What do you mean of course? Sometimes people don't know. I can usually tell who likes who else, but everyone else winds up asking me."

"Belle knows her own mind."

"Isn't that usually a euphemism for stubborn?"

"Well, that's as may be," he laughs. "But I meant she understands it."

"Maybe," says Chelise dubiously. "I suppose if she says she likes me then whether she really does or not that means she's willing to try."