It was a typical December evening in Molyneaux. It was cold, it was snowing outside, and the men of the village flocked to the tavern for a night of fun company and hearty drinks. Pierre, the owner of the tavern and the bar man, was doing his usual rounds: talking to the men seated at the counter, making sure that the mead was flowing and that everyone's tankards were filled to the brim. It was going to be a good night of business, and Pierre knew it.

During a brief lull in the service when Pierre wasn't busy talking to LeFou or Stanley, he noticed that a portly man had seated himself at the stools. Pierre didn't recognize the man, so, judging from the way he was dressed, this man wasn't from Molyneaux. He made his way over to the newcomer, smiling in a friendly manner. "Bonjour, my good man! How can I help you?"

The stranger looked startled at being addressed before sniffing. "I don't suppose that you would have a good wine here? A pinot noir, perhaps?"

Pierre blinked. "Maybe some mulled mead?" he suggested after a pause.

The stranger sniffed again. "Very well, that will do."

Shrugging, Pierre filled a tankard with the appropriate drink and slid it down the counter to the stranger, who caught it awkwardly. Pierre chuckled. "You don't visit taverns much, non?" he asked politely.

"I don't see how that is any of your business, sir," the stranger replied with a frown.

Pierre held his hands up, a gesture of peace. "Just making some small talk, mon ami. You look like you've had a rough day."

The stranger's frown deepened. "How -?"

Pierre waved a hand carelessly. "Why else would you come to a strange tavern to come and drink? You want to drink your problems away, non?" Pierre winked. "I've been in this business long enough to recognize a worn-out man when I see one. Now come, stranger. Something is bothering you, and while the alcohol in that mead may take your mind away from it at the moment, it won't erase it completely."

The stranger looked at Pierre suspiciously. "How do I know if I can trust you? I don't even know your name!"

"Moi? I am Pierre," Pierre said without missing a beat. "And quite honestly, mon ami, I don't see anything I can gain from telling your secrets, so they will not be going anywhere. Good enough?"

The stranger crossed his arms over his protruding stomach as he thought over Pierre's words. Finally he nodded. "Very well. I suppose I have nothing to lose. But if I happen to hear my secrets as gossip in your town..."

Pierre nodded. "I will be severely punished and regret ever having opened my mouth?"

The stranger looked pleased. "I am glad that we understand each other so well." He coughed. "Well, I suppose that I should introduce myself to you as well. It is only fair. I am Cogsworth, head of... well, that's not important," he said hastily.

Pierre whistled. "Of course not. Well, Cogsworth, I am all ears."

----

One hour and several tankards later, the tavern was empty - save for Cogsworth and Pierre, who was now sitting at the counter besides Cogsworth. Cogsworth, under the influence of the mead, had talked and talked to Pierre about the person who had driven him to the tavern that night.

"It's driving me crazy!" Cogsworth burst out again for the fifth time that night, banging his tankard on the counter to emphasize his point. "Absolute insanity! How is it possible that she - she -!"

"She is a woman," Pierre reminded Cogsworth. "Women have an unnaturally canny ability to affect men in this way. You are not the only one, Cogsworth."

Cogsworth slumped in his seat, shaking his head back and forth. "I can't get her out of my mind."

Pierre patted Cogsworth on the shoulder. "I know."

"I can't concentrate on my work -"

"Of course."

"I am being constantly distracted whenever she merely walks into the room -"

"A pity."

"Even my master has begun to notice!"

Pierre raised an eyebrow at this. "You didn't mention that before. What did he say?"

Cogsworth took on a pained expression. "He actually encouraged me! Even offered to give me advice!" Cogsworth spluttered. "It is horribly embarrassing, considering that I single-handedly advised him on how to win the mistress's heart!"

"Well, perhaps your master is acting in your best interests," Pierre pointed out. "If even he believes that you should give this girl a chance..."

"Nonsense!" Cogsworth straightened in his seat indignantly. "It would be highly unprofessional! I cannot allow myself to lose control!"

"Losing control occasionally isn't always such a bad thing, mon ami."

Cogsworth turned red. "I do not intend to be like Lumière and Babette - sneaking away to spend time with each other when they should be working, setting a bad example to others! No, no, no!"

"And Lumière and Babette are...?"

"Never you mind," Cogsworth said hastily, realizing that he had accidentally slipped a little bit too much. He sighed. "I am at a loss of what to do, Pierre."

Pierre sighed as well. They'd been talking in circles for such a long time now, and they still had not gotten any closer to coming to a conclusion than before. "Cogsworth, I am going to give you advice. You are free to disregard it if you wish, but just listen. It cannot do any harm, non?"

"I suppose..."

"You like this girl. From my view, she feels the same about you. What is there to lose?"

Cogsworth sighed. "But she is so young..."

"Love recognizes no age."

"I have a reputation to uphold..."

"What is the point of having a good reputation if you are not happy?"

"Must you always argue back?" Cogsworth said, annoyed.

"If it will get you to open your eyes, then yes," Pierre replied cheekily.

Cogsworth sighed, frustrated. "You are worse than Lumière."

"I shall take that as a compliment."

Cogsworth glanced at the clock on the wall and gave a start. "Good heavens! I have stayed too long here, I'll need to go back..." he stood and paid Pierre for the drinks. "Thank you for listening to me," Cogsworth said awkwardly. "You have been good company."

Pierre pocketed the money with a wide smile. "It was the least I could do. Will you at least attempt to tell the girl how you feel?"

Cogsworth's shoulders slumped. "I suppose. I have nothing to lose... other than my self-respect and dignity..."

Pierre clapped Cogsworth on the back. "That's the spirit! Good luck, mon ami, and let me know sometime if Mademoiselle Chelsea does return your feelings!"

With a final shake of hands, Cogsworth left the tavern and Pierre chuckled as he cleaned up the tavern. "All in day's work," he mused, satisfied.

AN: I did not write this story, everyone! This is actually written by someone else as a Secret Santa present to Chelsea (Cogsworth109) on the Bittersweet and Strange Forum. However, since they don't want their identity to be revealed, they asked me to post the story up for them. :) Please leave a review to let us know if you enjoyed it!