The Beast
Pistol at the ready (both hands on it as her father had shown her), Karen pointed it at the approaching man. He did not stop advancing, though he did slow somewhat. Giving her that same placating look, he reached his hands out in a peaceful gesture.
"M'not gonna hurt you."
His voice sounded as rough as he looked, like he hadn't spoken in days, but despite that Karen recognized the sound immediately.
It's him. It's, he's The Beast.
Her thumb clicked the hammer of the pistol back and she gestured towards him, trying not to shake or scream or any of those things that she wouldn't be blamed for doing given who (or what) was standing in front of her.
"Just...stay there. Don't come any closer."
He stopped moving forward once she cocked the pistol, respecting the weapon if not the wielder. Brow furrowed, he looked her over; she could not categorize all of the slight, almost aborted motions his bruised face made (lips twitching upwards for a half a second as though to smile, glance darting away) before settling on some sort of resigned grimace.
"I guess the fancy dress don't fool you, huh?"
There may have been something beautiful about his clothes at one time - now that he'd mentioned it, Karen could see what remained of lace cuffs trailing forlornly from his sleeves. His breeches were in no better condition, and he was hardly wearing anything else (what had she expected? would The Beast wear a brocade waistcoat?).
The thought of The Beast - or the man in front of her, for they were surely the same - deigning to be dressed up like some sort of French popinjay caused her to snort with amusement. She tried to arrange her face into a more serious expression, but biting her lips she realized it was rapidly becoming a loosing battle.
"Ahh, see? I knew you couldn't shoot a man dressed this nicely. "
He gestured expansively, and his cuffs caught the air like an errant bit of dandelion fluff. It was...ridiculous, and Karen couldn't help but laugh this time. She did manage to cut herself off quickly, but she could feel some of tension in the room deflate (much like his sleeves, OH GOD SHUT UP) even as she kept the pistol pointed squarely at him.
"It's Frank."
She must have looked puzzled, for he went on to elaborate.
"Me, mm, I'm Frank. The other names don't sit so well."
And just like that she was reminded of the stories, of the bodies dragged into the woods. But how to reconcile that with the man standing in front of her, who'd made a joke at his own expense? Even if (and i pray not) he were a bloodthirsty killer who slaughtered innocents without remorse, he had twice promised to spare her life. Didn't promises mean something when magic was involved? Sternly, she gestured at him with the pistol (he must be growing dizzy as she lept from mood to mood).
"Promise me you'll do me no harm. Promise on something important. Something sacred."
There was hardly a moment's hesitation from him.
"On my word, on my blood, on the grave of my wife and children. On my heart, I shall do you no harm."
Karen could almost feel the magic wrapping around his words as he spoke, and she took a half step towards him without even really thinking about it. He in turn took two steps forward and slowly placed his hand in front of the pistol, gently pointing it downwards and away from that organ which he had so recently sworn an oath upon.
"I hope you'll do me the same kindness, and not blow a hole in my best shirt."
He smiled a bit at the last few words, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. Still, he did not take the pistol from Karen's hands.
"Oh! Yes, of course."
She did not need any more urging to put the weapon away (and what good would it do against The Beast, anyway?), and so she set it down on the ground. It was...awkward, then. There was no weapon to keep him at bay but they still stood apart some distance, as though gauging how or if at all to close the gap.
"I'msorryIateyourstew!"
It all came out as one big jumbled word, the tension from the room still not dissipated and it was a relief to watch him - The Beast, or Frank - be the one to struggle against laughter.
"Not mine, but you're welcome, welcome to it I guess. Was it, ahh, any good?"
The way his tone changed when he was simply talking to her, not swearing an oath or trying to diffuse a loaded situation, made Karen smile a bit. He had a way with words, but they seemed to jumble when he was not focused on saving his shirt (literally and figuratively) and it made her like him more.
"Rabbit and leek, very good. Did you...not make it? Is there someone else here?"
Scrunching up his face thoughtfully, he (still The Beast though he appears human, do not forget) scratched his short-cropped hair.
"Just us. The cottage - house or whatever - probably made it. Magic an' shit. It does all sorts of stuff it thinks I - us, I guess, want. Usually just tries to get me fed and bathed and wearing something more respectable. I've never seen..." and he waved his hands at the library, "never seen this before. It's nice."
Karen gawked at him, too bewildered for a moment to do anything but open and close her mouth before the words came.
"You've never been in this room before? How can you..? Look, there must be (she counted on her fingers) a thousand books or more here! There's The Arabian Nights' Entertainment and Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, I would swear I saw The Faerie Queene under one of those low branches, never had a chance to read all of that, and over there - "
He chuckled, rubbing his forehead as though following her leaps in thought was giving him a headache.
"I don't read so much. Mostly got other things to do. But you, you can take what you like. It's all yours."
She nearly hugged him, had almost bridged the space between them before she realized what she was doing and thought better of it. Her enthusiasm, though - that she could not contain.
"Thank you so much! Oh, I wonder where I'll ever find time for them all."
It was impolite to turn your back on someone, she knew that, and dangerous should that someone be the someone she was currently in the room with, but she did it anyway. Crossing to the other side of the room she stood in front of the giant bookcase and inhaled deeply, that smell of vanilla and leather that seemed to happen wherever books were all gathered together. Behind her she heard him - Frank - clear his throat slightly.
"M just gonna go to the kitchen and see about that stew? You'll be here?"
Not bothering to tear her gaze away from studying the shelf, Karen waved in his general direction - either the sign for, "Yes yes, whatever you say", or "Go away now". Something dismissive, at any rate. She heard him laugh, and turn to walk out of the room.
"Yeah, you'll be here."