[Oh god. LeFou has no idea what's coming, when Gaston keeps advancing. His fight or flight instinct pings like alarm bells at the way he almost snarls the word "demigod," but he keeps his face schooled into that blank fear response smile. But then Gaston just...pauses. Even with no flesh or muscle, his expression shifts.
And what he says next is almost... sweet.
LeFou's smile softens. Turns genuine. He responds to the threat of the rifle in kind.]
no subject
And what he says next is almost... sweet.
LeFou's smile softens. Turns genuine. He responds to the threat of the rifle in kind.]
Thank you, Gaston.