Despite the Beast being unable to see her face, Tess attempted to suppress the inevitable twist of her lips and scrunch of her nose when she plucked his ripped, dingy pants off of the chair with two fingers. Keeping his clothes at arm's length, she glanced at her guest and paused. Did he need help getting dressed? She didn't mind giving the Beast a hand, but she didn't want to invade his space any more than she already had.
His stiff posture and flexing spines made is clear that he had had more than enough of her meddling for one night. Cautiously, Tess made to move closer and froze when the Beast swung his head around and pinned her in place with his single, unseeing gold eye.
The moment of silence that followed lasted for a few seconds, but felt much longer.
"Uh, here ya go," she said as she tossed his pants in his direction.
The Beast flinched when they landed on his shoulders with a soft thwap before hardening his face back into an emotionless mask. He kept his attention on her as he slowly tugged his clothes off his shoulders. The grip he held them in looked so tight that Tess was worred they would tear.
The Beast rose into an awkward half stand, half crouching position and leaned on the foot of her bed to balance himself.
Tess's eyes widened slightly when he gently stepped into each leg with no problem. She continued to stare as he fiddled with the worn rope he used as a belt.
"I guess you had to've done this before, huh?" Tess thought aloud.
The Beast's ears pricked forward as he looked at her again, acknowledging her addressing him but not understanding a word she said. Not that he seemed understand words in general. Tess bit the inside of her cheek in thought.
Maybe....
Tess made her way to her immaculate closet and swung the door open. She tapped her fingers on the doorjam as she scanned the line of various shirts, skirts, and dresses. Finally she found them, a handful of button-up dress shirts her father left in her house. He kept them there for back up after he spilled syrup on his best church shirt on Easter sunday last year.
She pulled a pastel pink shirt- the largest in the bunch- off its hanger and unbuttoned it as she whirled around to present it to her friend.
"I have an idea," she said, mostly to herself. "Try this on."
She stood directly infront of the Beast, who was now considerably more relaxed. Tess pressed the shirt into his hands, took a step back, and waited.
The Beast cocked his head to one side and ran his hands over the strange new item in his grasp. Then he paused, back straightening and brows raising.
With practiced ease, the Beast flung the shirt over his shoulder and onto his back, then pushed his arms into the sleeves. Starting from the bottom he buttoned the shirt up as if it were second nature to him. As if he had done it a thousand times before.
Tess felt something in her chest tighten when he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.





















