Several weeks would pass from this point, and during this time, Jim swiped a cot from the local marketplace—much to the chagrin of the honest Quasimodo—and hung it in the rafters for Ariel to sleep on.

"What are you shaking your head for?" Jim asked, looking at the oddly pale redhead. She had her hand cupped, holding the nails that Jim needed to secure her new bed.

'I'm afraid of heights. What if I fall?'

"Then grab a beam and hang on." Jim said roughly. "This is the only place Frollo won't come into contact with and he won't be able to see you from below. If you want to stay, you'll have to sleep here."

'But Jim—'

But Jim held out his hand and asked for a nail so briskly that she knew that arguing was pointless. She could always leave, she supposed, but it wasn't like she could go home. Besides, she wasn't an idiot—if she was to go out in Paris all alone and as vulnerable as she was, people would notice. And just like back home, some people would take advantage of that "weakness."

And there was Jim. He baffled her. He had selflessly come and saved her when all of Paris had turned their backs and run away; he had carried her laboriously through town, giving her his clothes so that she would be covered; and he had tucked her in when they finally reached the tower, he had placed her hand over his heart; all of these amazing, wonderful, truly delightful things—and now he was treating her like a burden. She just couldn't understand why.

'I'm lucky I'm pretty.' She mouthed as she looked down at her feet.

"What did you say?" Jim asked her, catching the movement of her lips from the corner of his eye.

Ariel raised her head to look at him.

'I didn't say it. You did. You said that I was lucky I was pretty. You wouldn't have helped me otherwise.'

Jim froze, his heart dropping to his knees.

"I-I didn't know that you were awake." He whispered.

'I was slipping in and out.'

"I'm sorry." Jim sighed. "That's not how I meant it."

'What else could it possibly mean?!' Ariel retorted, her temper beginning to get the better of her. He didn't have to take her in, but now that he had, he had better start treating her with some respect.

"It didn't mean anything at all!" Jim said, his voice lowering. "I—I was just frustrated and scared, Ariel. I didn't know what I was saying. And in all honesty, if you had snakes for hair and no eyebrows and four legs and crooked teeth—fuck, I still would have saved you. You're somebody, Ariel. That's all that matters."

The heat rose to Ariel's cheeks.

'Don't say things like that!' Ariel protested weakly. 'I'm trying to be mad at you.'

Jim chuckled and shook his head.

"You and the rest of the world."

'So, Jim, about the cot—'

"This is legitimately the only safe spot. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to deal with it." Jim interrupted. Ariel rolled her eyes. She was going to have a lot of issues navigating this boy's attitude.

They had a limp apple salad for dinner that night. Quasimodo and Jim were already sitting at the table by the time Ariel had managed to get down from the rafters. The whole gravity issue had her pretty shaken up. The idea of falling and severely hurting herself was a new and very frightening one. If she had started to fall under the sea, all she would have to do was re-angle herself upwards. But there were no second chances when you fall on the surface. It was a terrifying thought.

Ariel sat beside Jim, who grunted by way of greeting. She looked up at Quasimodo, who caught her eye and smiled warmly. He may not have been the most beautiful human being in the world, Ariel thought, but he had one of the best smiles she had ever seen. She smiled in return.

"We should say grace before we eat." Quasimodo said. Ariel felt puzzled by this human practice; they would each grab hands and one person would say some sort of mantra to a supposed food spirit before eating. She thought Jim would say something about it, for some reason, but he did not; he merely grabbed hers and Quasimodo's hands and bowed his head in silence. Ariel grabbed Quasi's other hand and hastily followed his lead.

"My Lord, we thank you for this bountiful meal that you have placed before us and for the new guest you have brought to our home. We hope that you watch over her as you do for us. We thank you for Master's kindness and understanding" –here Jim's hand squeezed Ariel's tightly—"for we don't know what we would have done without his generosities. And thank you for continuing to watch over us and for showing us a display of your power by destroying the devil's wave"—Ariel opened one eye and looked at Jim, who was peeking at her already. He shook his head slightly and closed his eyes again—"in Jesus' name I pray. Amen."

"Amen." Jim echoed. Their hands fell apart as Jim and Quasimodo turned hungrily to their food.

Ariel scrutinized the wares before her. One was a wooden bowl, haphazardly whittled with what she assumed was a very small knife; and the other was something that she couldn't believe she recognized.

'A dinglehopper!' she mouthed excitedly. Why a dinglehopper would be present at a meal, she had no idea. But she seized the opportunity to prove to herself that she was capable of surviving in this world.

She began to brush her hair eagerly, but froze when she spotted Quasimodo's and Jim's bewildered—and rather concerned—stares. She hastily put down the utensil and stared at her toes, wishing that she could disappear. Silently, Jim passed over his own fork while Quasimodo swiped hers and put it gingerly on a shelf. Quasimodo sat back down and put his fork to his mouth. Quietly, Ariel mimicked him.

For the rest of the dinner, Ariel used her fork correctly and Jim, she noticed with a twinge of guilt, was picking up his salad with his hands and munching on the leaves.