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Valjean is troubled. About a great many things - but this is nothing new, and none of it shows on his face, or the way he carries himself. Indeed, when he comes downstairs for supper and sees children all over the place, he breaks into a smile. Well! This is a delight.

He seats himself in a booth to the side. Bar has provided a book, and a modest meal of bread and cheese. He ignores them in favour of watching the young ones. It brings a mixture of sadness for things lost, and happiness to see such youthful exuberance. Such things keep an old man young.

[OOC: Open 'til next Friday.]

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He blinks at this. Who has been calling this child mad?

'You are clearly in control of your wits,' he says.

'I do not understand. Who would say otherwise?'

He takes a deep breath and holds his knees before saying quickly,

"I can hear thoughts and feel what other people feel."

Ah.

Well. He does not know whether such a thing is possible.

But what is clear, is that the boy himself believes it truly.

'Be calm, child,' he murmurs, as an attempt to alleviate the boy's nerves.

'You will not hear me call you mad. I do not pretend to understand, though. How can this be? Is it magic?'

"I don't know. Its how I am but I'll figure out why I am like this when I'm older. I will,"

If he can understand then he can find other people like him.

Another small smile. The fight in him is admirable.

'Do your parents know of this skill? Your...I believe you said you had a nurse?'

"I tried to explain it to them but they didn't understand, so I don't anymore,"

Its easier that way.

'And so, who do you have to talk to?'

He is dreading this answer already.

"No one, its safer if I don't talk about it."

His heart aches at once. This boy is so young, and to already have no one he can share this with? It is terrible.

'What do you think might happen if you do? You think you might be taken away?'

A valid fear, perhaps.

Edited 2013-10-14 22:33 (UTC)

"Mother thought about it before I got better at making sure I only answered to what people thought not what they said or felt."

'Ah. Yes.'

He examines the boy's face, but with a gentle smile, so as not to scare him. He is not judging.

'I can see why you must do this. And perhaps it is even the best way, if they cannot understand. I only wish there was someone else at your home who you might confide in.'

A pause, before he adds;

'Loneliness is a terrible thing, and I would not wish it on you. I suppose there is no way to smother your...skill? At least until you are older.'

Though, why should he have to? It is a miracle that it is possible at all.

"I'd like that too but I don't know who. I know how to manage some of what I hear but that'd be lonelier to not hear or feel. Sometimes I can help people feel better because of what I know,"

He doesn't want to stop because its hard to make the world quiet.

'You would not cease to hear, or feel.'

Of that, he is sure, and the belief in it will likely be evident in his thoughts. Along with a slight amusement at the notion that these things could ever stop.

'All of us who cannot do what you do - we still do both of these things. But yes, I can imagine it would be very strange to have it stop. And also that it could be of great assistance to those in need.'

"I know but I like that I can sense what I can even if it doesn't always make sense,"

He's never really alone if he can hear thoughts and he can always find someone.

'That is good. It is an indication, I think, that you will learn to master it.'

If someone is interested in their craft, whatever it might be, then the love of it comes through in the finished product. This, he hopes, is not so dissimilar.

'You must also be aware, I should think, that there might be people who will not like having their thoughts read. Indeed, I am one of them, though I cannot stop you if that is what you choose. I only hope that you keep this in mind in your daily life.'

It is as close to counsel as he has come in years. These days, he holds his tongue unless desperate circumstances require it. But when he was Madeleine, it was second nature to give advice, when asked by an adult - or to gently offer it to the young minds who would flock to him in the streets. His advice to Charles is of the latter variety, of course.

"I know and I'm not prying," That would be rude.

'I believe you.'

And, he does.

If the boy is lying, so be it.

(OOC: Fade here? Thank you for a wonderful thread.)

"Thank you," He likes Jean.

'You are very welcome, Charles,' he returns, solemnly.

He likes Charles, too.

[OOC: Yes! And, thank yooouuu. That was beautiful. *all the hearts* :D]

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