Sympathy grew back into her eyes again when he said he needed to return to Libria. From the way Errol described the place, she couldn't imagine why anyone would want to go back -- but then, she recalled also just how much she'd longed to be back with her sisters and father, when she first arrived here. It had taken years for her to settle here -- years, and a visit from the City incarnate, and the gift it had given her afterward. But she didn't try to convince him again. He would either discover the place for himself to be what Beauty had found it to be, or he would not.
When he thanked her for the tea, she smiled at him with genuine pleasure and nodded. But that smile turned weaker when he mentioned the idea of Errol killing... and killing so easily. Her eyes shifted downward, but then back up again when Monsieur Preston continued. The man seemed both to know and not to know Errol -- or, at least, Errol as Beauty knew him now.
"I'm sorry for causing you alarm," she said at last, with a bit of a forced smile. She hadn't wanted to ever see a gun pointed at her again. She picked up the jacket on the couch beside her and stood to see him out. "I was mistaken about..." She passed the jacket - the jacket she now knew was a uniform - back to Monsieur Preston. "I'm sorry."
When she reached for the door, she glanced over her shoulder. "By the way," she said. "My name is Honour Bellaforte. Most call me 'Beauty' -- an old family nickname assigned to the ugliest of the daughters." She gave him a self-depreciating smile and opened the door for her guest. She wanted to tell him not to point the gun at anyone else -- but she knew that the City wasn't always safe. She knew that better than most.