milliways_bar | (no subject)

One denizen of a city's underside, present or former, always knows another. Gavroche gives him a glance and a nod that's a mixture of cautious and respectful of another survivor.

Times and cultures and fashions may change, but some things don't. Clothes faded and worn, mended and redyed and faded again; the slouchy posture, to make himself as inconspicuous and nonthreatening as possible; and above all the wariness. Anything can happen, and it's best to be on the lookout for whatever it is.

"Evening, there," he says quietly, returning the nod.

"Evening." He's still sizing the older man up, and seeing nothing particularly unfamiliar - at least in general terms. "Don't think I've seen you here before."

He's got that underfed look, isn't particularly tall, and he's got his right arm in a sling. Not very imposing, but sometimes those are the ones you've got to watch out for.

"I've been home," he says. "Don't know how long--time's funny here. And when I'm here, I'm upstairs or outside a lot. It's quieter."

Physically small people often fight harder. Gavroche understands that one.

"It is", he agrees. "And outside's a nice place to spend time, 'specially if you're from a city."

"We got parks in our city, but not on our side of it," he says. "You go to the parks, you don't look right, you get hassled. And you can't go in the water back home, it's not safe. Here, you can."

He still can't swim, but it's nice knowing he could if he wanted to.

"There's things in the water that'd eat you?" he hazards. "Or is it just not clean? And yeah, the rich people go to the parks, they don't want to see poor people existing."

Edited 2013-08-15 12:41 (UTC)

"There's... well, the sewers let out into the river," he says. "And there's a part of town where all the scientists work, and the things they pour down the drains... it gets in the river, and if it touches you, it changes you. When I was a kid a friend of mine fell in, and whatever was in the water, it put holes in him. Just holes all over."

Gavroche winces at that image.

"I don't think your scientists are like mine. I mean, there's acid, of course, but that dilutes in water and it doesn't usually work fast..."

"We've got all kinds of scientists," he says. "Some are more magic than science, and sometimes they don't have any idea what they're working with. They just do things to do things. And they don't much care about the people downriver."

And that's why he'll never voluntarily go into any water he hasn't seen someone else go into first.

"Downriver is where the slums are?" he asks quietly. "The people with no standing to complain?"

"They start out a little rowdy," he says, "and get poorer the closer you get to the docks, at the far edge of the city. We should just be grateful they don't make us drink the water from the river, probably. Folks from my neighborhood, we don't trust rivers."

"I don't blame you! You have some sort of well or pump with safe water, then?"

"We do," he nods. "There's pumps, and some fountains that were probably something a couple hundred years ago, but now they're all stained with rust and who knows what else. My... my friend, she goes to get a bucket of water from the pump every single day."

And carries it down the ladder into their hideout. Running water is so much more convenient.

Gavroche nods.

"My first city, we had to do that too, or else be back and forth all day getting smaller amounts."

"Once, years ago," he says, "we had a room in West Gidd. The house had water; we didn't, it was just a bedsit. But we had use of the landlady's bathtub once a week, and she'd bring us up water every morning."

This was clearly a luxury; it's the only time he's really lived anywhere with indoor plumbing, besides here.

"That must have been nice. I don't remember the last time I had use of a proper bathtub, before I came here."

"It's so much better here--the water stays hot for longer, the tub itself is much more comfortable, and I don't have to share it with anybody. If I want a bath every day, I can have one."

Which is why, when he's here, he no longer has the scent of his city.

The laundry facilities are also much better.

"And the water comes on demand!" No, he's never got over this. "No boiling it and pouring it yourself."

"My landlady had water, you just turn the faucet and there it is, but it was never the right temperature," he says. "You could put coals in, to try to heat it back up, but here it's so much easier. Baths ought to be relaxing."

One of the simple joys of life, really.

"In a nice big tub until the water goes cold", he agrees happily.

"I've heard in other places, they've got public baths," he says. "You go in with all your friends, and just soak in there all day if you want to. Even the poor get to be clean."

They'd never do that in his city, of course. Imagine the rich having to look at the Remade.

"For free? Like the Romans did?"

Which may mean little or nothing to Jack, of course.

"Some places," he nods. "Most of them, you have to pay at least a little, but some are attached to temples. Some gods like cleanliness, I guess. Like some gods have hospitals, some have baths."

"That makes sense. They'd want their worshippers to use them before they go into the temple - but they're free for anybody to use as well."