Isabelle looked at Jack lying on the bed. She sneered at his unconscious form.
"Why should I help him?" she asked Gaston, her helper and dear friend.
"Father," he said, with a heavy French accent. He pointed up, meaning her son lying upstairs, wondering what the bloody hell just happened. Isabelle looked at Gaston. When she had first seen him, the enchantress in her came out again. He was handsome, with dark skin, dark blue eyes and black hair, turned brown by days in sunlight. She had been disappointed, yet some how pleased to find out that Gaston did not speak English.
"You're right, but still! And after what he did?" she looked at Jack again. Will sat, staring hard into the fire. Gaston gave her a you-know-you-have-to look.
"Oh fine!" She stood, taking a long stride toward Jack. She moved swiftly, removing the bandages that were temporally placed over the bullet hole. She examined the wound, and cleaned it out with water. Taking what looked like a pair of tongs; she removed the bullet and placed in a bowl full of trash. Jack moaned in pain, Isabelle sneered under her breath, "Yes, feel the pain. The pain I felt when you disappeared." She did not stop her work though. Blood trickled from the wound. She wrapped it up tightly and sighed.
"There. He's good for now… It won't be long before he wakes up again. He's been shot before. But this gun is one for hunting. It makes make's animals' fall from pain. I don't think I put the poison bullets in there." Isabelle shrugged and headed upstairs. Elizabeth spoke before Isabelle could reached the second stair.
"Why did you shoot him?" she asked. Isabelle looked over her shoulder and said nonchalantly, "I have my reasons and you'll learn them in good time, m'lady."