[ He'd believed that, too, for a long time. Had worked to create choice, to give himself and the other Expeditioners and the people of Lumiere what few choices they might possibly be able to grasp.

And in the end, he'd made a choice, too. Gustave looks up at the massive beast, now scuttling threateningly back and forth on its many legs, and back at the other. ]

Maybe we should try explaining to our new friend here that it doesn't have to attack us.

[ His hands are full, but he still brings his stiff, broken left hand to press the side of his arm against the wound in his chest. It's not good, but his strength no longer seems to be flowing out of him like someone had pulled a plug in a basin of water. ]

That might need to wait for after whatever it decides.