pro_patria_mortuus | (no subject)

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Enjolras is at a table with a book and a plate. (It contains some crumbs that used to be a chicken sandwich, a mostly untouched small cake of the sort that Bar persists in giving him unrequested, and -- inexplicably -- a small candy heart with the incomprehensible word LOL stamped on it in pink. Enjolras has no particular desire for candy, especially of a self-evidently joking sort, and thus has ignored it.)

More importantly, he has a book about the history of Ysalwen's Thedas, which he's reading thoughtfully.

The bar is bustling, as often. A few of his friends are about; the spy is across the room, monitored but outwardly ignored. Enjolras has no intention of speaking to him without cause, if he's given a choice in the matter.

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Javert looks surprised - and slightly suspicious - when Courfeyrac offers him a glass. But he takes it with a grudging nod, because he had been about to have lunch, and he is both hungry and thirsty.

'Oh, stop that noise,' he says to Jehan. 'You did not say why you know how to pick locks.'

Obviously yes, he would like to be freed but is not going to stand here and parrot Enjolras regarding the key. He examines the handcuffs more closely though - they are not any kind he recognises, and if bolt cutters did not work, it is safe to say a saw will not. Maybe there is something stronger in the forge.

'They do not look as though they would withstand fire. But if it is magic, I expect it is pointless.'

Needless to say, he ignores Bahorel in return. He especially does not like Bahorel.

Edited 2016-02-05 18:33 (UTC)

"Yes, unfortunately," Enjolras says to Bahorel.

Whatever, spy.

"Bar's word is to be patient, and that someone somewhere around Milliways has a key to all of these."

Which is more of a mercy than not having that assurance, but... ugh.

So very ugh. "I know we debate the nature of this place; this is almost enough to earn it the title of a hell. Denied free association and movement both! But stand strong! You are one of the bravest souls I have ever known, I am sure you can endure even this; and you will not face it alone, after all."

You don't leave your friends to face the law alone. Even if the Law has proven to be absurdly ignorant and temporarily harmless.

Bahorel thumps Enjolras on the shoulder in support, and leans back to study the dimensions of the situation better. "--And if all else fails, I might at least make you a portable wall to improve the view while you're being held without charges."

"You certainly won't face it alone," Jehan agrees, fervently. He wouldn't abandon an enemy to this fate, let alone a dear friend.

To Javert, reminding Jehan he didn't say why he knows how to pick locks, Jehan just says, "No. I did not."

He learned to pick locks so he could break into Bahorel's apartment to retrieve something while Bahorel slept, but let the spy amuse himself imagining other reasons.

Javert pulls in a long breath, blows his cheeks out and lets it out all at once. As well as being infuriating, these boys are tedious. Veiled insults and talk of friendship, two things Javert finds a waste of time. If you are going to insult someone, just do it to their face.

'Well, there is no point standing here,' he says, to the air in general.

'Might we at least sit?'

He needs to grab a rat to re-order lunch. ANd he is not goign to eat it standing up.

Bahorel's grandstanding -- serious truth phrased in the cadence of nonsense, over deep sincerity and support -- draw the first smile of this conversation out of Enjolras. It's faint and reluctant, but it's there.

"I'm sure we would both prefer that," he says of the offer of a temporary wall, "but it seems rather cumbersome at this point."

There's somebody with a key around. One hopes that this irritating farce won't last too very long.

And he has his friends. Dear and loyal and beloved; riches far beyond anything the spy has earned in his dishonorable life.

"Do as you like," he says to Javert, coolly. Beyond those words, his gaze and his attention are on his friends.

Excellent! He will do just that. But the rat he tries to catch the attention of does not appear to see him, so when the next one appears - a little further away - he automatically walks forward to catch its eye.

It would not be quite honest to say he had forgotten Enjolras was attached to him, and he does not care how this might inconvenience the boy. Being the one standing, he has the advantage, so if Enjolras gets pulled along a little...so be it.

Ngh -- Oh, for--

Enjolras sets his weight (which is less than Javert's, but which he knows very well how to use) and pulls back.

For God's sake. Really? Javert's going to be that petty?

Yes. Yes, he is. In his view, it is no more petty than the children pointedly ignoring him, and talking about him as if he were no there.

Enjolras sets his weight, and Javert only pulls against it enough to hold his ground, signalling the rat with his free hand. Once his order is placed, he returns to the table, pulls up a chair and sits down. Ignore away, boys.

Enjolras is not going to get into an undignified handcuff tug-of-war. Especially with his arm as part of the rope. If setting his weight isn't enough to make Javert not yank him along, he'll move rather than be yanked.

But UGH. Why, Milliways.

It will surprise no one that he is satisfied with having made him move. To his mind, this should help Enjolras learn manners. He could have made some offer to accommodate the situation instead of ignoring him - but it matters nothing now, he has what he wants. The rat brings a sandwich and some water, as well as some paper to draw on. He will even be polite, and eat with one hand only so as not to jerk Enjolras around! Manners.

Bahorel acknowledges the spy's unfortunately close continued existence with a roll of his eyes. Out loud, he says "I'll post a notice for whoever has the key; if we miss them here, at least they'll still know to look for you."

And if whoever has the key turns out to not be the sort of person who'd try to find people shackled against their will, Bahorel will go find them, later, and have a discussion about it. But it's probably fair to wait a few hours on that.

For now, he looks over at Prouvaire, eyebrows lifted in a quick question, just to confirm one of them's definitely staying with Enjolras while the note gets posted.

Courfeyrac has been quietly humming along with Jehan's dirge, and takes in the back-and-forth between Javert and Enjolras with raised eyebrows. He had no idea a grown man could be so childish. But at Bahorel's words, he stands up.

'I can do it if you like, and ask around the place to see if anyone has this key to hand. We'll need more wine, in any case. If we have to be stuck in unpleasant company, at least we may amuse ourselves.'

Which the spy will no doubt hate, and so much the better.

Jehan nods. "I'll stay here, whichever of you goes. You'll have us by your side to keep your spirits up, Enjolras, however long this ordeal must last." Not that Enjolras can't take care of himself, far from it, but friends don't leave friends alone and shackled to police spies. "I have a poem I was working on, would you like to hear?" This is more directed at Bahorel than at Enjolras, who will earnestly listen out of friendship, or at the spy, to whom it will no doubt be nearly as irritating as the sound of laughter. He pulls it out of his coat pocket.

Edited 2016-02-06 01:21 (UTC)

That settles who's going, then. Bahorel hops onto the edge of the table. "Anything you're ready to share, any time." And that's said seriously,entirely in earnest. Bahorel's not about to hide his allegiances for the spy's sake.

Enjolras settles into a chair as well, turned slightly towards Prouvaire and Bahorel -- insofar as the handcuff situation will allow with dignity.

Sure, go ahead, Prouvaire! Bahorel will appreciate it, Javert will hate it, and Enjolras will... earnestly and half-comprehendingly listen out of friendship, yes.

Jehan has experimented with many forms of poetry and song since he's come to Milliways. He has tried freeform poetry, and haikus, and rap, and still others. But he hasn't abandoned the more classical styles, either.

So for this occasion, he chooses to recite a series of ten sonnets about two fairies who fall in love while seeking to free the innocent prisoners of the tyrannical king and queen of fairyland. The last poem has the lovers dying tragically but triumphantly, hand in hand, and turning into morning dew on the grass in their deaths. Jehan is not fully satisfied with the scansion of that one.

...Okay!

Enjolras is glad this pleases you, Prouvaire.

Though he appreciates the more explicitly anti-tyranny parts. And the power of a triumphant death, hand in hand or not, although he's not sure what the morning dew bit there is about. But Prouvaire likes nature and so forth. Anyway, there's some effective and truthful rhetoric in the middle. (That's the fifth of the linked sonnets, Enjolras.)

Edited 2016-02-06 06:10 (UTC)

When the boy starts, Javert closes his ears. He knows literally nothing about poetry, and does not intend to start learning now.

It goes on.

And goes on.

And goes on, and while he does his best to remain entirely impassive, inside he is trying to ignore the feeling that comes when an endless drone sandpapers itself across his eardrums, over and over and over again.

He had started to draw the outline of Bahorel's profile. By the time Prouvaire is at the start of the third sonnet, he has the poet in a courtroom in front of a judge. By the start of the sixth, there is a guillotine waiting for him in the background.

Bahorel's too busy listening to the poem to pay attention to Javert's scribblings at first. But it ends, as all poems have to, and between coming back to himself and considering what to comment on first, he does see the courtroom scene. He crows and claps his hands together. "Hah! Look at this! Your first review, a truly glowing commentary! I was going to tell you, I thought it had a real heart to it, but here, forget my little audience, the voice of authority has spoke, you've offended the constabulary and made yourself a threat to public order. A grand accomplishment! The Figaro couldn't give a better opinion, and wouldn't anyway."

If he's laughing at the spy, his pride for his friend's work is genuine. To unsettle the settled and sure is one of the great powers of art.

'It is more that I wish him dead for the endless noise. Take that as the review.'

He is only half serious.

Well.

Of course he should be dead for other reasons, and is. But specifically for being, in Javert's opinion, a truly dreadful poet.

And, oh hey, here's even more of an audience! Bossuet and Joly have barely been in the bar long enough to pick up on the General Situation, but they're already on their way to join the throng, carrying a shared tray somewhat awkwardly.

"Jehan," Lesgle says cheerfully, with an extra smile for Javert's scowl, "Our apologies for missing the start of the recitation! I know it's absolutely philistine to ask for a summary of what we missed, let alone a full repeat performance, but do you have some particular lines you could share with us?"

Bahorel's already swung himself off the table (and no, he didn't have to swing, he could have just set his feet down, but: why) . He grins at Bossuet and tousles Joly's hair a bit as he moves around them to put an arm around Jehan's shoulders. "Ah, you missed a fine work! A grand 'noise'." He rocks back and forth a little, the very least shadow of a dance, and sings " Bouzingo, bouzingo..!"

Jehan will know the song--and Javert might, for that matter, recognize it as a familiar sound of disruption back in Paris.

Edited 2016-02-06 15:27 (UTC)

Joly very mmaturely sticks his tongue out at Bahorel for the hair-tousling before laughing and looking at the table and seats thoughtfully. There's not much room to sit side by side, but...

To Bossuet, he says "I think we can manage, if we don't mind being friendly", before tugging them both to sit next to Enjolras. Who Joly jostles a little. He smiles quickly, in apology and in greeting.

He recognises it, of course he does. And grits his teeth again, because he knows they are just trying to be as annoying as possible.

Bossuet does not get so much as a glance. Next to Bahorel, his least favourite of this group. Joly - well, Joly has had some use, so he flicks his gaze in his direction. Then he puts his head down and goes back to sketching Bahorel's face out.

At least the singing is not about fairies, and love. Surely those are only topics for women? He does not understand what is wrong with these people.