Errol lingered just inside the doorway, absently and automatically assessing the interior of the cottage for threats. The decor of Beauty's cottage was so different from his own that it always took him a second to adjust: cozy where his was Spartan, with a good bit of brightly-colored chaos from her roommate accenting things here and there. It would have been like walking into a painting, save for the occasional bright pink blouse or set of earbuds thrown haphazardly onto the chairs.
He raised his eyebrow at her. He was used to Beauty being more open with her emotions than he was; at the moment, she was being downright forward. He liked it. He smiled, a wide and slightly playful smile. "Perhaps I am," he said, following her. "Bowling was rather more strenuous than I had imagined."
It had not been, and he had spent years training for hours upon end with scarcely a break, but he could play along and humor her. He pulled off his Cleric's coat, folding it and the hidden pistols and setting them neatly out of the way, one less reminder of his past. "What about you?" he asked.