G? G.

"Gaston, I'm married," she reminded him, holding her left hand up long enough for him to see the ring on her finger. "So, whatever reminiscing you have to do, I can't do much about it, not even if I wanted to. Which, I don't, for the record." Atta took the hand that laid across her shoulder, attempting to tug it down so she could be free from his grasp. "Didn't you come with a date?"

Gaston pressed on, trying to make his case and sway her perspective. He knew well the allure that a bachelor like him presented to married women, and he speculated that perhaps Atta might find their clandestine encounters enticing. He subtly suggested that she deserved a break, a taste of something more exhilarating. "You deserve some time off, some excitement," he added, his gaze smoldering with suggestion, hinting at his desire for a more intimate kind of fun… with her.

"A date?" Honestly, he had forgotten. Perhaps he was too preoccupied with a pregame of shots to remember who he had come with, and honestly, he didn't care much. Atta was a much more challenging prize, and she had him engaged in the game. "How about we go on a date instead, princess?"

"Gaston," she greeted, giving him a tight-lipped smile as she took a step back, far enough out of his grasp. "I can't say the same for you, but you're here nonetheless." Atta grasped her wine glass intentionally to have her ring finger facing him, hoping he would take it as enough of a hint to at least not flirt with her during this exchange. "What's, um, with the sunglasses? It's really not that bright in here, unless you're avoiding meaningful conversations that require eye-contact. That's never been your forte."

With little concern for her boundaries, he draped an arm around her shoulders and began to guide her elsewhere, seeking a more secluded spot where they could be alone. "Sometimes I think about us," he continued, his tone suggestive as they walked, his other hand holding a beer. "We were pretty amazing together, weren't we?"

theo james as cameron sullivan in the white lotus: sicily

Atta wasn't above losing her temper with him a little bit, though. This wasn't Hopper who she was speaking to; he didn't have some sort of legal means to punish her, and she surely didn't think he would go violent with her. Gaston was an aggressive person by nature, but never once in the past had he hurt her like that. "So, let me get this straight: you left me to preserve your reputation, but now, you expect me to believe that you're just going to come out of the blue, back into my life, and help me with the most delicate matter I've ever had to deal with? You want me to trust that you're not going to take the selfish route again?" It was more of a demand of answer than entertaining his idea, but Atta couldn't stand to leave this house without resolutions to the questions she'd been asking herself for years.

"Some people change, Atta. I hope you can see the good in people sometimes," he added in such a casual manner, with soothing words that made it seem like he believed every word. "So, tell me, do you want to trust me, or do you want to be selfish and handle this alone? In the end, I'm already on Hopper's bad side, so I might as well make some friends over it, don't you think?" Gaston had a knack for getting what he wanted, and truth be told, at this moment, his argument did make sense.

“Hey there, how’s it going, baby?” Gaston turned his head to get a glimpse of the attractive blonde sitting next to him. Her fruity and feminine fragrance hinted at someone accustomed to a life of privilege. Gaston, too, was no stranger to a life of privilege, though his came from a different source. Sporting a self-assured grin, he confidently raised his hand to catch the attention of the barista. “You’ve come to the right person,” he boasted. “I happen to own a pub myself. Ever been to Gaston’s Tavern?” He hadn’t put much thought into the name of his establishment, but Gaston believed there was no better name than his own. As he sized her up, he couldn’t deny her appeal. Sure, Belle had always been his top choice, but this blonde with her cheerful smile? He’d encountered her type before, and he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity. “For a beauty like you, how about a Frangelico on the rocks with a twist of lime?” His voice dropped slightly as he offered to buy her the drink, pushing the glass closer once the barista had placed them on the table. “So, what’s your name? Or should I keep guessing?”

While Lottie liked to claim that she had high standards when it came to the type of men she associated with, the truth was she found herself attracted to just about any pretty face that gave her even a moment of attention. Which is why even though she knew she should have been turned off by the cocky and ridiculous line, she couldn’t find it in herself to care. In fact, it was almost the opposite, his confidence making him seem even more attractive to the blonde. “Can’t say I have, but maybe now I’ll have to stop by sometime,” she answers with a sweet smile, making a mental note of the tavern’s name. It didn’t sound like the type of place Lottie would really want to associate with - but for the handsome stranger, she figured she could make an exception. As he suggested and then ordered a drink for her, Lottie’s smile only grew. There really was nothing else like having a man buy a drink for her, regardless of the fact that she could afford to buy the entire bar right now on the spot if she really wanted to. It just gave an air of class and gentlemanliness that the blonde couldn’t help but fall for. Picking up the drink as it was pushed her way, she took a small sip and hummed softly in approval before setting it back down. “I’m Lottie. Lottie La Bouff.” She stated her name as if it meant something, which it absolutely did - the La Bouff hotels being known world wide. “And would I be right in guessin’ that you’re probably the Gaston of Gaston’s Tavern?”

"Give me a week," he countered, feeling it a reasonable offer against what Gaston had demanded in the first place. "I need to discuss this with my advisors, you have to understand." Though he'd been tasked with making decisions like these theoretically on his own from what his responsibilities had outlined, Arthur still hadn't grown into being confident enough for that. He still sought the approval of all the members above him, even now. "And I would appreciate if we could be more professional, please. I know you don't want to work with me, I understand that, but, uh, I do respect you, and I'd hope that you might feel the same," he requested, lacking the full confidence that he would've hoped for, but Arthur's firmest nonetheless.

Gaston sat at an al fresco restaurant, a champagne flute in one hand and a tobacco in the other. He reclined in his seat, relishing the warmth of the air and the gentle breeze that brushed against his face. He was thoroughly enjoying the moment, and rightfully so. The outcome of this meeting would determine the fate of the Hunters. It could mean the taste of victory with the beast's head triumphantly displayed, or it could lead to an all-out assault on any magical being they could find. The task ahead was daunting, but Gaston and his team were prepared. As the head of the Hunters, a position he had inherited, he understood the weight of responsibility that came with it. He possessed the necessary qualities—cunning, intelligence, and undeniable handsomeness (if that were a criterion). Gaston was determined to surpass the achievements of his predecessors, to be the most successful leader the Hunters had ever seen. He aimed to exceed the numbers of previous administrations, boasting a record of hunting down formidable magical creatures.

As his meeting partner approached, Gaston greeted with a hearty shout, "Ah, the mighty captain arrives!" he teased, lifting his glass and taking another hearty gulp. "Have you brought me good news? Is the beast on the menu tonight?" He let out a booming chuckle, his voice resonating with a sense of confidence.

Her expression showed how little she was surprised when he rattled off nonsense, knowing very well he had no idea what he was talking about. It was more difficult for her to hold back the laughter at the irony of the situation. For it being Gaston it was quite fitting, really. The more he spoke the harder it was for her to take him seriously. He couldn't ever be genuine and Belle struggled to understand what anyone saw in him. As hard as she'd tried to find something, Gaston thought about one thing and that was himself. "You also read who the author is?" She asked while pointing towards the novel with a raised eyebrow. "Not really a book I've ever read, I actually didn't even know it was in here. You can keep that copy as a gift." The brunette was taking books into her arms to switch aisles when he continued the conversation. She'd been prepared for it to end but should've known better when it came to Gaston. He was predictable at this point.

One of these days he might realize if he ever truly wanted to get to Belle he would at least try to share her interests. That was a lot to ask of a man with a brain of his size though. "As archaic as that sounds, I'll have to pass." She loved to ride horses but not when it involved hunting or Gaston. "I've actually done that before, which you would know if you ever actually got to know me," Belle said before rounding the corner to continue stocking the newest arrivals onto the shelves and hopefully cut their conversation short.

As Belle shifted to another aisle, Gaston naturally followed, taking the opportunity to flaunt his muscular physique while continuing their conversation. "I'll take this gift from you, darling. It's the first time you've ever given me something," he declared with confidence, fully convinced that Belle was finally showing genuine interest. He interpreted her actions as a sign of growing affection. There was no other conclusion than that. With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, he proposed another idea, his grin widening. "Or how about something different? Would you like to come with me to a wedding? I assure you, it'll be a grand event."

Atta felt herself gawk at him as he spoke, the explanation she had been longing for once when she was younger. All he could come up with was that she was too young as the reason why he'd broken her heart--something he admitted to liking once, and something she could never change. "You knew how old I was when we started dating. I'm sorry I aged out of being young and delicate for you," she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. If that was the best he could do, then he was going to be sitting here speaking to a brick wall until he let her go. An incredulous laugh came to her lips, and she didn't even try to repress it. Was he really that thickheaded that he didn't think she already was caught up in it? "I can handle myself. I'm not tying myself up, and I don't need your protection. I don't need your help. There's nothing you can do, anyway--he's blacklisted you. I'm not even supposed to be speaking to you, much less in your house right now. You had your chance, years ago, to protect me from him, and it's too late, Gaston. I'm already in it, and you're right, there is no getting out. This is my life now, and I'm sorry you don't like it, but there's nothing you can suggest to me that I haven't already tried."

Furrowing his brows as he looked back at her, Gaston's mind briefly drifted to the past. He remembered a time when he found Atta endearing and enjoyable to be around. She made him feel special, truly attentive to his words. But Gaston's life was complicated by the need to be perfect in front of his peers, to maintain his reputation. Though he and Atta had a relationship in the past that he didn't deny, still he somehow kept it hidden. He refused to speak of it because he knew it would lead to questions he wasn't prepared to answer.

"I'm just looking out for you, and if you already know it, I'm offering you an escape," he suggested. A part of him yearned for her to comprehend him on a deeper level, but Gaston struggled with expressing himself in that way. His expertise lay in manipulation, making it hard for genuine sentiments to find their way from his mouth. Thus, he gazed at her, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "I didn't leave because I didn't care about you. I left because I chose my own needs over what we shared, and I've witnessed what regret can do to people's lives. I don't want to see the same fate across your face," he added, before pivoting away, shielding his emotions from view.

“No, Gaston, I need to go home,” Atta pressed, feeling a sudden rush of anxiety as they headed toward the very woods he’d mentioned. “I told you that. I have—there are going to be people following us, you know. Hopper’s people, and they’re not going to be happy when they see that we’re together.” It was true: her boss had made it completely clear that he was up for protecting her now, a luxury that she hadn’t been afforded before. And thanks to him, Atta had paid attention to the self-defense classes. It was for that reason alone that she hadn’t buckled her seatbelt, since she could technically still get out if it was free. Before she could protest, it was around her waist, but Atta kept a hand on it, in case she needed to hop out. “We’re not going to the woods. Turn around and take me home, please.”

"Listen, listen," Atta continued to talk over him, and Gaston couldn't seem to get any of his points across. As someone who wasn't skilled at communication, being talked over by anyone frustrated him deeply. Atta used to be a sweet girl he met years ago, someone who saw him in a positive light, considering him the best thing to ever happen in her life. Now, her eyes reflected storms, and she seemed unwilling to even hear a word from him. "Atta, listen to me!" he growled, his voice thundering through the room, causing her to take a step back as fear flashed across her face. Gaston didn't mean to yell at her, but he needed some space, a moment to speak. "I brought you here so we could talk, even if only for a moment, and you're not giving me a chance. It's fucking annoying," he argued, shaking his head in frustration. Gaston wanted her to understand that he wasn't going to hurt her and that he had no intentions of making her life more difficult. He knew he had to address the elephant in the room—the conversation he had abruptly left, which had led her to think of him this way.

"I know I haven't been the kindest to you, and I left without giving you much of an explanation, but I didn't know what else to tell you or how to explain it," he confessed, meeting her gaze as he tried to make himself understood. "But you were young, and I liked you for that, but as time passed, I started getting strange looks, and I didn't know how to handle it with everyone else." Gaston had tried to hide their relationship because of the age difference and the judgmental looks he received because of it. Although he thought it wouldn't matter as long as her bright eyes looked up to him, he realized he wasn't as strong as he had thought. Like any other man, he left a good girl, thinking only of himself and searching elsewhere for the same brightness he once found in her. He failed and now found himself seeking it again from the same person. "I—" He stumbled over his words, unsure of what he wanted to say, but he knew he had to try. "Don't marry Hopper. He sells guns and is involved in all kinds of illegal activities. If you do, you'll be caught up in it, and it will be impossible to get out," he confessed, not entirely sure if that was what he wanted to say, but it was something. "I'm a hunter; I can protect you. Just... get out of it. Don't tie yourself up, and if you ever feel trapped, I—" He realized the irony of offering help after taking his hideout without her consent, but he blurted it out anyway, "I can help, and I want to help. That's all I want to say.”

Gaston was right: if she didn't get in the car, he would be shot at to kill, and, of course, she didn't want that. So, she followed his instructions and slipped herself into the passenger's seat, hoping that he had a better explanation once she heard him out. Before she could say another word in protest, they were headed toward her house, and Atta could already feel regret sink into her stomach. "What do we need to talk about?" she asked first. In regard to the letter, Atta had heard about that, but still couldn't tell herself what it meant. "I don't know, I'm not the one who sent the letter out, am I? You haven't talked to Hopper about any of this?" She noticed he kept straight, when she would've turned back toward her house. "Where are we going, Gaston?"

"In the woods," he answered nonchalantly. It was a place where common folk rarely ventured, as it posed a constant threat to their lives. In the enchanted woods, all sorts of inexplicable creatures dwelled. They were heading straight into danger because Gaston was a hunter and he knew he could handle it. Away from people, it would be easier to talk, easier to be understood. As he drove, Gaston glanced back at her and noticed she hadn't fastened her seatbelt. He slowed down momentarily to reach over and secure it for her. "You never learn, do you?" He shook his head, hearing the click of the seatbelt before returning his focus to the road.