"Chamomile, if you please," she said softly on the heels of Mssr. de Lioncourt's order to the lady who set them far from everyone else. But even without the soothing tea, Beauty was calming down. Her face was still a mess, but she wasn't crying anymore. And she didn't feel like nothing was possible and everything was against her.
Perhaps she didn't fully trust Mssr. de Lioncourt. Perhaps he did still make her uncomfortable. But he was helping her. And, she reminded herself sternly, he had done nothing at all but be kind to her. She took the seat he pulled out for her and gave him a small smile of gratitude.
"I would love to hear your explanation," she said. "I promise I won't cry again." And although she meant it to sound humorous, she was afraid she'd failed miserably at that.