The Beast, who'd spent the last hour or so pacing and growling just outside the room, finally had enough of this ridiculous man's stories and barged in irritably.
"ENOUGH!" he roared, silencing Belle and Gaston momentarily. "This is my castle. You don't get to come in here and fill Belle's head with all these questions and doubts and boring stories about your worthless little peasants." He huffed, pacing on all fours before throwing himself into a throne-like seat. He stared glumly at failing fire, missing the saddened expression of Mrs. Potts as she came up to him, pouring him a cup of tea. He picked it up gruffly, spitting it out almost as soon as it touched his lips, slamming the cup down onto his furry lap in a huff. "It's cold!" he groused angrily, shooting a somewhat confused and furious look at her.
"No, Sir, it's just not boiling like it was last time. Burnt your tongue, you poor thing. I've made sure it's still hot enough to be enjoyable, just drink up," she commanded in her soothing voice. He persisted staring at her warily, bringing it back up to his lips and continuing to mumble complaints as he slurped the hot beverage.
"Needs more sugar," he griped when he had finished, placing it back down on the tray when he was through.
"Now, I'll not be indulging that overly-sweet tooth of yours every day, love. It's not healthy. You should cut back- not on everything," she reassured him lightly as his head whipped round in a anger at her, a small snarl rumbling in his throat, "but just a little less every now and then won't do you any harm, Sir."
He actually pouted at that, looking up to Belle for sympathy before he noticed the fire losing some of its flame. He stood up, stalking toward it before he was stopped by Lumière.
"Don't worry, Sir. I'll tend to that," the small candelabra offered as he grabbed a poking stick, waving and blowing life back into the dying flame.
"Let me do it," the Beast argued impatiently, reaching for the poker. Lumière seemed determined in his task, hopping out of his reach quickly as he waved one arm at his master.
"Of course not, Master. Remember how singed your fur got the last time," the Beast began to growl lowly again at the reminder. "I assure you, I can take care of this, you just need to sit down and relax," he gestured toward the chair. It took Lumière a few minutes to get the fire burning with its original force, and he had to beckon over Cogsworth for help with the too-long metal stick, shooing away both Gaston and the Beast as they attempted to help the struggling, small enchanted creatures.
Once the fire was raging again, Lumière and Cogsworth both sat down heavily, panting and exhausted, leaning on one another dramatically. Of course, this caused them to accidentally nudge the flame-heated poker into contact with the rug, which quickly began to smolder like coal before the scowling Beast grabbed Mrs. Potts, emptying her contents onto the slowly-burning rug before shoving the clock, candelabra, and teakettle roughly out of his way as he stomped menacingly on the singed floor.
"Idiots!" he shouted, still stomping and chasing any sign of smoldering fabric, "lazy, incompetent, stupid-"
Gaston, after Belle had run and made sure the three servants were all right, stalked up toward the still-ranting Beast.
"Don't you talk about them that way!" he shouted, momentarily stunning the Beast with his outburst. "They were only trying to help and you shoved them aside like they were worthless! But you- you may seem big, and powerful, and perhaps even scary- but you know what your problem is, Beast? You hate what you don't understand- no matter how big you are, the mysterious and the unexplainable frightens you. And that makes you small. You think small and you act small- and you treat people as though they're inferior. But they're not. Even if you weren't a prince. Even if you weren't a beast- you'd still be a monster." He didn't even blink at the rising, threatening growl in the creature's throat as he continued, "You don't appreciate anything everyone here does for you. Not just because you're their master. But because they're kind and loving even though you don't deserve any of them. Especially Belle." He looked at the girl, who was still tending to Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, and Lumière. "If she stays here any longer, she'll become even more miserable!"
Eventually he registered the pure, unadulterated hatred that had entered the Beasts eyes, and he'd already begun his retreat when he heard the final, irreversible, ear-splitting command from the master of the castle, "Get oooooouuuuut!"
