Chapter 9

I looked at him nervously and told myself... it was the first time since I arrived that someone entered my little house, I hoped he would praise it as I had been wishing. Joffre was very accommodating and always nodded to everything.

"Please come in..."

"Are you kidding? Am I supposed to believe you live here?"

"Then why do you think I opened the door?" I asked, not understanding him.

"I thought it was a dirty storage where you kept your tools."

"Storages are nice if you clean and decorate them. Do you want to see how I take care of it? I even have a pet frog named Guillebert," he gagged at the mention of a frog.

"You live under a pile of felled trees. How can you even call this a house?"

"Aren't you coming in? You can stay outside, but there's a spider's nest I need to find a new home for." Alarmed, he looked at the ground, walking cautiously, his frown so deep it seemed he might faint. I let out a slight smile, getting a bit of revenge. When he closed the door behind him, holding his nose and looking around with disgust, I said cheerfully, he wouldn't take away my joy for my new home.

"I know it doesn't look good from the outside, but the important thing is to keep it nice inside. It's not as bad as it seems if you look at it from that perspective." He looked into my eyes, his expression arrogant and haughty, screaming, "How can you call this good?" He was so expressive; to him, it was trash, but to me, it was a treasure. Without asking permission, he took the chair from the small table and sat down elegantly, crossing his legs. Such a banal act looked good on him; too bad he always had that face.

"It doesn't seem as bad as it looked," he said, running a finger over the table and finding no dust.

"Do you really think so?" I asked hopefully, forgetting all the problems I had with him in a second.

"Wait here, I'll bring you a cup of tea that Joffre brought me the other day. You'll love it as much as I do! I've never tasted such a lovely flavor." I said excitedly, attending to my first guest. The excitement made me forget the pain in my poor arm. Without realizing it, I touched the boiling pot and burned myself.

"Ouch!" I put my finger in my mouth, bringing the cups to the table. When I looked up, he was watching me sternly. I ignored him and nervously served everything with one hand. On my plastic cups, I had drawn little flowers on the outside to make them look more elegant. Proud, I finished and when I offered it to him, he said,

"A... plastic cup, is this serious?"

"Don't you think they are pretty? I decorated them. If you want, I can show you. Beethoven taught me a long time ago..." He stared at the cup in silence, and my nerves surfaced.

"It's... the only thing I have. Or maybe... would you prefer coffee?"

"Coffee... in a plastic cup, is this one of your stupid attempts to poison me?"

"Well, I... the important thing is that you can drink. And here..." I handed him a wooden stick and said, "It's for stirring the sugar, don't worry, they're made of wood, but I washed them very well." He ran his hand over his face, murmuring unintelligible things. His expression gradually darkened, turning furious. What had I done wrong this time?

♥

First, she dared to serve me water in her stinky pot, and to top it off, in a plastic cup as if I were an idiot. Who in their right mind hands someone a moldy stick, probably pulled from the dirt, for someone to consume? She was clearly trying to get back at me somehow, I should have known. I know it's not polite to show disdain for someone's house, but I couldn't care less about those protocols. It's my damn land, so this house is mine, and I won't let her think she can make a fool of me.

"If you ever show me such filth again, I'll not only shatter those plastic cups you call cups, but I'll also turn this entire house into pieces. It must be a breeding ground for bacteria," I warned, causing her to flinch and signaling for her to remove everything from the table.

"Yes, sir..." she said, taking everything away while murmuring something under her breath. Suddenly, I noticed she was limping slightly, not very noticeable, but evident if you looked closely.

"Why the hell are you limping? Did you really get hurt by the horse?" I asked, confused.

"That horse didn't give me its best kick... you said it yourself, I'm tough as leather," she said with a smile while washing. I stayed attentive, observing her, and realized she hadn't been moving her left arm for hours either. But if she was injured, it wouldn't be normal for her to stay silent... the most normal thing would be to ask for help.

"Hey, girl, let's go to a hospital," she turned towards me, shocked and horrified, and said,

"N-no need, I already told you," she said with a smile that was clearly tinged with nervousness. What was wrong with her? Angry, I got up from the chair and said firmly,

"Why not? And what are you doing there...?" I asked irritably, approaching the sink where she was washing.

"N-nothing..." when I looked up, I saw a frog swimming in the plastic cups she had tried to serve me. I tried to hold back my gagging, but it was impossible.

"How can you think of reusing plastic cups, washing them in that filthy water next to that frog! Are you crazy? Do you want to kill me?" I shouted, furious.

"This frog is cleaner than I am, I bathe it every day... it's my friend and likes fresh water! Besides... what will I drink from if I don't reuse them?"

"Why do you think they're called disposable cups? To use them and throw them away. And you intended to give me a drink in those disgusting things?" I felt my stomach turn in disgust again.

"But you didn't even drink anything, I don't understand why you're making such a fuss. Besides... it's not my fault I don't have dishes, Joffre only brought me this, and he comes every two weeks." I glared at her, wanting to lock her up for attempted poisoning. Looking at her face made me angrier, knowing I had her. She was incapable of turning that silly smile into one of pride. It only reflected weakness and discontent. What an insufferable woman...

♥
Belle's Perspective

"What you just said is pathetic and despicable," he said, looking at me with an expression of disgust and contempt. I faced his gaze, fed up with his odious attitude. How had I forgotten so quickly who I was dealing with? The same man who didn't help me when a horse kicked me and left me on the ground. Was I pathetic just for having plastic cups? This man didn't know what it was like to eat with dirty hands because you didn't have a spoon, or to pull an old loaf of bread from the trash or starve. He didn't know anything. If he weren't my boss, I would give him a piece of my mind right now. It's more than evident that it was the first time he'd seen a plastic cup in his life; he knows nothing about me, yet he dares to judge me. He must live wonderfully, with his artisan cups made by Italians.

"Next time I'll try to serve you on a silver platter, sir," I said with a clearly ironic tone.

"There won't be a next time; I'd be completely crazy to come back to this dump." When he turned his gaze away, I stuck out my tongue at him, giving him the middle finger. Suddenly, he looked at me intently, and I didn't know what he was searching for in me. What an annoying man... I thought of attending to him with kindness, but his bad attitude only made it harder to bear the pain in my arm.

"Rest here for a moment, I'll call Joffre," I indicated, wishing they would take him away. I couldn't bear the pain and his words anymore. I looked at him, and with annoyance, he looked away.

"Agh... you held up well, Belle, you can do it, it's just a scratch..." I told myself out loud, but then why did it hurt so much? Was it because I had been enduring the pain for so long? I took the Walkie and called Joffre while trembling in pain.