Beauty and the Harry Biest

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Furry? Biest wasn't pleased with the statement, but he wanted this to be over and done with soon. Chel was too touchy and too attractive for his personal comfort. He'd also found her to be rather manipulative, and he wasn't able to resist the creepy little touches she had started to offer him. Resistance was offered to the touches themselves, but the idea of being touched was one Biest didn't like. Instead of just standing there, letting her touch him and not having a reaction, he did have a reaction. Something foreign to him, something that caused his discomfort.

Little shit was very good at what she did, that was for sure. Harry looked to see the dorm she was pointing at and nodded, unsure of what he actually had to do. He'd never had reason to confront a locked door before. It wasn't like anyone had locked him out of places back home or anything... Not that they could. These doorhandles they had here were different and actually did have locks on them. Back home people just used a piece of wood or a chair. Back home, there was no way to pick a lock.

"Ladies first." Now was the perfect time to be a gentleman, in Harry's opinion. If he didn't have to make a fool out of himself and get mad at a doorknob, that would be good. "You're more capable than me at picking a lock," What kind of a crafty person wasn't good at picking a lock? Biest wasn't going to trust the sly female, and he wasn't sure why he had even let her into his dorm in the first place.

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Because she'd been wearing nothing but a towel and he had boyparts.

But more on to the subject at hand. Chel watched Harry for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what was going on in the burly guy's head. He'd come up to the door, and for a moment, Chel thought he might actually do something. She certainly was content to simply stand aside and let him take a crack at picking the lock. If he damaged it or something, she could always blame him. Worse come to worst, she figured she could just head off to the girl's dorm and find something to wear for the moment. Or find Tulio and berate him till he felt very tiny. Both had their own appeals.

But no, instead he gestured toward the lock and looked to her. Chel flashed a slightly sheepish smile, reaching up to brush back her hair. "Now what makes you think I know how to pick a lock?" she asked. She even waited for an entire beat of silence, before sighing. Gesturing for Harry to move, she started forward, pulling out the pin and the safety clip. Her dextrous fingers began working the lock with obvious practiced skill.

Sadly, not the first time she'd picked a lock.
Not even the first time she'd picked this lock..

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Harry gave Chel a small smile and stretched lazily as he stepped back to let her work her magic. He didn't doubt her abilities at all. The trouble with the situation came in if they were to get caught doing this. Most authoritative figures would consider the action as breaking and entering, even if Chel was a good liar. "You just seem a lot more coordinated than I am." Though it wasn't a lie, it still was not the true reason Harry didn't want to have a crack at the lock. Chel shouldn't be able to see through him. If she did, he'd act indifferent. As indifferent as he possibly could.

"Are you sure no one is in there?" If one of the boys was in their room, how would they react to Chel breaking in? How would they react when they saw him helping her? It didn't really help his case that he was a huge 'furry' guy who was aiding a criminal in the making. Maybe he was just worrying too much. Yeah, that was probably it. If there was someone in there, Chel would probably have known.

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Chel sighed, which disturbed the wet bangs. She had to blow again a few times, before hazarding bringing up a hand to completely swipe the wet hair out of her eyes. She dared a half-glance over her shoulder at Harry, who she could swear had just taken up a position like he was a lookout or guard.

"Relax," she said, nearly purring the word, 'I do this all the time. Well, not this, precisely, but you know what I mean," she turned back to the lock, frowning slightly. Surely Charming hadn't gone and changed the locks on her? That did sound like something he would do. It also sounded like something that Tulio would try to put a stop to, as best he could. Chel leaned forward, jiggling the pick in the lock for a moment.

"If anybody's in here," she said, her tone indicating just how distracted she was, "they would have jumped out by now," she glanced over her shoulder at Harry, "they're jumpy," back to the lock. "Or they're sleeping. So stop worrying about it. Just---ah, there it goes."

The lock clicked. Grinning, Chel pushed against the door, and sure enough, it swung inward. Still smiling like the Cheshire Cat, Chel strode into the room. She'd made it a few feet in when she waved for Harry to follow. There was still that whole reward thing to work out.

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"Relax."

The word made Biest's spine tingle. That was awkward. He figured it was the way she had said it and how at ease she was at the moment. Taking her words to heart, Harry relaxed his pose a bit and stuffed his hands inside his pajama pockets. They were alone, weren't they? It sure seemed like it. There was no need to be so edgy if there wasn't a risk of getting caught, right? Right.

Harry couldn't suppress a small smile when Chel opened the door; he didn't have to do anything besides stand there. This was a good sign. As the girl had said, there probably wasn't anyone inside. He peeked his hairy head around the side of the door and took a tentative step inside. Though he'd done nothing, if this woman intended to pay him for lazily standing around and giving her a shirt to wear, he'd accept it without a second thought.

"So, do you actually stay in this dorm? Or do you just..." Harry let the sentence trail off. He figured Chel could finish it however she pleased.

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Chel sauntered in, stepping around the relatively familiar piles of stuff. Said piles were mostly clothing in various shapes in sizes, including bits that were most decidedly feminine. At least two of the occupants of this place only cared so much about their own personal hygiene. At least Chel made certain to bathe regularly, not to mention utilizing perfumes and lotions.

"I told you," she said, nearly purring, "I'm just staying here for a little bit. Temporarily."

Yeah, because it clearly didn't look like she'd moved into the place at all. That was the de facto truth, much to the chagrin of pretty well everyone else involved. Chel picked her way through the various bits and pieces of clothing, finally making her way to Tulio's bed. She bent over then, making certain to pull down the shirt as she did, though she did shoot Harry a warming smile at the movement. A hand snaked under a mattress, obviously searching.

"Why, are you worried that I'm getting you in a break in attempt?" she asked, pouting up at him. She giggled a bit, then gestured with the hand that wasn't stuck in the bed. "Look around, furry. If I was going to break in, does this look like the first room I'd have picked?"

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The large boy forced himself to stop asking questions. Surely this one could take him in circles mentally and he would just end up dazed and confused. Definitely not a way Harry wanted to end up around Chel, that was sure. He had to make himself to think of something else besides this girl and her actions, as questionable as they may be.

Harry forced himself to look away from Chel. It wasn't an easy task, but he managed it nonetheless. She was definitely a temptress. The prince's warm brown eyes went to study his surroundings, just to get a better understanding of who lived here. It was no one who liked to be tidy, much like Biest himself. Perhaps they were a couple of princes such as himself. Whatever the case, now wasn't the time to get to know them.

Soon a new thought dawned on him. Harry felt like being a menace. Sitting on one of the beds, he looked at Chel curiously. "So, how long have you and this guy been together?"

He knew how she had referred to them as 'just friends', but Biest simply couldn't resist the temptation to ask that question. He wouldn't just let some random chick stay in his room for no reason... Okay, if she looked like Chel, he probably would. For a little while. Just not for a long time. That would be uncomfortable.

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Chel had finally fished out Tulio's secret stash, and was just trying to figure out which gold pieces he'd miss. She wouldn't be at all surprised to find that he'd named a handful of these, and she could just see herself accidentally handing over Roberto or something. She was eying a gold piece suspiciously when Harry popped his question.

Chel nearly dropped the piece, but hoped to cover the action with a rather grand gesture that looked uncannily like she was performing slight of hand. She could technically do a bit of it, what with the endless practice at legerdemain and all, but she wasn't one to show all her cards. It was so much more fun to play the game with surprises lined up, after all.

"Hmm? Well, I've been working with him, and he'd say for him, for a while now," she said, almost forcing an unnecessary level of casualness into the comment. This random guy certainly didn't need to know about the giant cesspool which was Chel's real love life. She shrugged, rising, then walking over to him to deposit a gold coin into his hand. "Why? Worried about the competition, fuzz?"

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Harry fought to bite back a laugh. Sure enough, his question had done what he wanted it to. Making himself more comfortable, he wiggled about on the bed until his butt was situated in a better position.

When the female called him 'fuzz', Harry's hair on the back of his neck bristled. He reached back in a smooth movement and shoved it back down. First it was furry, and now it was fuzz. Did Chel have a thing for nicknames beginning with the letter 'F'? It was hard to tell, and that question wasn't the first one on Biest's list after she had asked if he was worried about his competition.

"Competition?" Biest quirked a brow and gave Chel a wry smile. "What makes you think I'm interested?" Lordy, who wouldn't be interested? Harry forced the thought aside and made his brown eyes meet Chel's. He would have started batting his eyelashes if it wasn't for the fact that he would look ridiculous doing so. The odds weren't in his favor, and they would probably never be.

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"You're male," answered Chel. She wiggled a finger at him, then tapped her lip with that same finger. "There was also the whole helping me break into an apartment, letting me wear your shirt, and pretty much staring at me. But, yeah," she lowered the finger and gestured toward the area wherein the major difference between boys and girls lay. And no, she wasn't pointing at his chest. "It's mostly because you've got the boy parts."

Chel's smile hit her eyes, making them light up and dance for a moment. She giggled, then tapped the gold she'd already placed in Harry's hand. "Don't forget about the gold though, you've definitely earned it. Hmm, you know," she withdrew her hands and took a step back, considering. "I don't think fuzz really suits you, or furry, for that matter. It's more like... ah," she snapped her fingers and pointed, "teddy. You're like a giant teddy bear. Yep, works."

Having settled that, Chel nodded, then turned to start rummaging through things again. The gesture had an air of dismissal about it, as if Harry were a messenger boy that could toddle off and spend his shiny coin on candy now.

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"Fine. You got me." Biest managed to keep his face void of emotion, and played off her words with a small shrug. There wasn't a way he could deny the attraction to her, though he was positive it would never go beyond attraction. If he allowed it to, it would probably have been beyond that already. Because he was so conservative with his emotions, he wasn't going to develop a crush on Chel.

"Excuse me?" No. No, no, no, no, no. He had just heard her wrong. There was no way he had heard her correctly, was there? She had not just called him 'Teddy'. No. That was impossible.

There were some similarities between Biest and a stuffed bear. A select few that he would admit to if prompted. Until then, he wanted to stay as far away from the name 'Teddy' as he possibly could. Harry told himself that Chel was unaware of his middle name and that she had meant no harm by calling him Teddy. There was no way she actually knew his middle name, she had just made connections between the boy and a stuffed bear.

Be that as it may, he still hated that word, that nickname. His hatred for it was evident on his face for a moment or two before he wiped it clean of any and all hints of emotion that may have been there. It would probably be best to just up and leave, getting away from Chel while he still could. The words 'teddy bear' still echoed in his mind, though, and they caused him to stay. He wasn't leaving until he got her justification on the matter.

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[y'know what's funny? I totally didn't know about the Teddy thing. And I'm one of those who would totally bring that up if I did know. So I'm taking it as delicious irony]

A shrug and a blank face. Chel was calling that good. It was certainly better than being ignored, plus, it totally confirmed her suspicions. It also really, really made her wish Tulio was here, a thought that she was desperately trying to shelve. She was getting sick of waiting for him to grow up or do something.

But then something seemed to go wrong. Harry shifted from being slightly awkward to the "get the hell out of there" mode. Chel recognized that all too well: it usually cropped up whenever she got a little too clingy. But she really couldn't figure out what had caused Harry to start panicking now. She frowned as she thought about it, trying to read it from his body language and failing spectacularly.

"Something bothering you, Teddy?" she asked, sauntering a little closer. "You know, most guys would like being compared to that. Because you know how close a girl can get to her Teddy..."

Hey, when logic didn't work, sex appeal usually prevailed. Or something.

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Biest got to his feet and glared at the girl named Chel. "Do not refer to me as this 'Teddy' ever again. I don't appreciate being associated with a cuddly ball of fluff that children sleep with to fend off the creatures of the forest." Lo and behold, he was not yet done with his random angry outburst. "As a matter of fact, you should be addressing me as something completely different. By my title, or perhaps by my name. One does not simply give a prince the nickname of a child's toy, especially not when he so obviously has issues with it. I am not a cuddly teddy bear that women sidle up to when they're cold. I am a male who does not cuddle and has no intentions of ever doing so with a temptress such as yourself."

Harry huffed and continued giving her a rather unpleasant look. Inevitably, this was going to look bad to her. He had stood up and gotten confrontational just because she had oh so innocently chosen to compare him to a teddy. The only reason he had a problem with it was his middle name. She couldn't have known that it was just that, and that was why she insisted upon continuing the teddy comparisons. Of course, Harry hadn't bothered to think any of that through until after he made his outburst.

Biest appeared to be flushed and he shifted his gaze to the floor. What he had done wasn't right, and though he knew it wasn't right he didn't want to take it back or apologize to Chel for his wrong-doings. Hopefully she would wish to rid herself of his presence and he would be free to take his leave. Then he wouldn't have to deal with the oncoming wave of guilt.

After all it was somewhat kind of her to refer to him as a teddy. He chose to take it as an insult rather than a compliment, all because he didn't bother to think before he spoke. He definitely had to work on that one.

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Oh wow, this was a first class, princely tantrum. Chel stood there, looking nonplussed, while Harry pretty well ranted at her, mostly involving the use of the nickname. She took it all, didn't even interrupt. She folded her arms over her chest (which as many know has this side effect wherein it pushes up and emphasizes Chel's cleavage). Chel did have to admit: this was a pretty first class rant. It almost sounded prepared, which likely meant that she'd touched a nerve with that last name.

"You finished?" she asked, arching her brow. she shifted her weight slightly, cocking a hip. "Because I'm sure I could stand here and listen to you go on about how I should call you something oh so special, your majesty. Especially, your highness, after you've been ever so kind to me, a lowly peasant," which she sort of was sort of wasn't, but that wasn't the point; the point was: "Would you like me to do some groveling, your princeliness? I can really grovel well, your esteemed royalness. I am a first class temptress, after all, right? Prince? Did you maybe want your shirt back too, royal poobah? Here-- just give me a--"

And she started reaching down for the shirt, clearly ready to pull it off despite the obvious consequences this would involve and entail.