Resistance. Yes. Beauty could imagine herself giving up everything that made her unique, and she could even imagine giving up everything she felt (for a limited time, at least), as long as it was done to serve a greater good. But then she thought about Megan. She thought about what she'd look like were she to have to go through the same thing. It was revolting, to think of Megan's fire squelched so thoroughly as all of that, to think of what it would mean to her roommate, to think of what it would be to see the a shell of a girl that she once adored. No, Beauty wouldn't have been all right with it, and so resistance seemed exactly the way that she would have gone. And, knowing Errol's fondness for books alone, she imagined that he would have felt the same.
Pride for him was struggling to the fore, when she caught the nostalgia in his expression before he looked down. What had it been like, being a part of the resistance? How had he lived? How did he hide? Perhaps these were also questions she shouldn't ask him...
I was one.
Thought stopped. Her expression froze for a second, before disbelief took over. Denial followed quickly after as she shook her head... then finally straight horror. This was far worse than she ever could have imagined. Now she understood his hesitation. Now she understood why he didn't want to talk about it when she first met him -- and probably ever. It must kill him to have to live with...
"For how long?" she asked very softly. How bad was it? No, no, silly question: it had been long enough, and that much had always been clear. "How did you get free?"