(no subject)

[never_shall_yield]

Javert does not know how lucky he was to have avoided both the zombie invasion, and Halloween. So he does not feel any particular gratitude at coming up from the office, and finding the place entirely normal. He just deposits a large box on his corner table, sets a pad of paper next to it, a fountain pen on top, and an inkstand to the side.

That done, a rat brings bread and water, and a napkin that directs him to a package left for him at the bar. He does not notice this at first, because he is preoccupied. He sits, picks a random sheet of paper out of the box, stretches his fingers out and begins to transcribe it to proper paper. In proper handwriting. With proper headings, and a uniformity of style. Because someone knows how to keep account of things, unlike anyone else in the security office.

He came up because it was time to eat, but apparently there is no time to stop for repast. If anyone cares to dispute that, they may go and see the state of the office for themselves.



[OOC: Open until the weekend.
ETA: but for tonight, I must beg slowtime for sleep. Am around to continue all tomorrow. Night, all, and thanks to those who tagged. <333]

Comments

[this_isaturn]

There's a man of about forty at a nearby table, dressed in a style Javert may find at least somewhat familiar (despite Helena's threats to 'modernise' his wardrobe, David's sticking to what he knows for now, thank you very much), watching his work with some interest. He's also got a hamburger - apparently they've become quite popular - and a book (one of Helena's).
But that fellow's tableau looks downright familiar, down to eating while doing the paperwork. It couldn't help but catch David's eye.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert appears not to notice.

Until the point where he says, without looking up, 'is there something interesting, monsieur?'

[this_isaturn]

"My apologies. I hadn't quite expected to encounter such a familiar sight here."
Though he really ought to have done, now that he thinks of it. Helena and Joshua had paperwork to hand the day he arrived.

[never_shall_yield]

'You speak of my work.'

At this, he glances up.

'Are you similarly afflicted?'

[the_cupbearer]

"Good afternoon," says one young-appearing immortal, leaning a hip on the next chair over. He himself is carrying a folder of papers in the crook of his arm, some written in hand like a financial ledger.

"Working?" he asks.

[never_shall_yield]

'As ever,' he says, though he does pause long enough to glance up. And perhaps even hint at a smile.

'And you?'

[the_cupbearer]

"At the moment, balancing my checkbook," he says lightly. "Putting a few things in order to facilitate that trip we discussed."

A hint of a smile is good, and Ganymede returns it more fully. "How have you been?"

[never_shall_yield]

'I am working,' he reiterates, as if it is answer enough. Is he supposed to need anything else?

Though he does look a little pained on hearing this.

'I hope you are taking no trouble on my account, monsieur. I did not realise the excursion would cause disruption.'

[i_am_your_host]

Bread. Water. Paperwork.

Boring.


Time to play.



"Pardon me, mein Herr," the sloe-eyed, slick-haired wraith wrapped in a leather coat begs of the large Frenchman, "but do you have a light?"

For the cigarette pinched between his fingers, you see.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert blinks. Not just at the cigarette, even though it is a thing he has seen only rarely. Not just at the question. More the man himself, who is certainly of singular appearance. And one for which a classification immediately springs to mind.

'If you mean a match,' he says, shortly.

'I do not.'

[i_am_your_host]

A red-lipped moue.

"Ah. Pity."

With his cigarette unlit for the time being, he feigns moving off and leaving the man in peace before ultimately deciding to stay where he is.

"Is there something the matter, mein Herr? You seem a bit perturbed."

Or disturbed.

[never_shall_yield]

'Perturbed? No, monsieur. I am merely working.'

The expression on his face - he has never been able to keep his thoughts off it - is that this man is a deviant. He does not approve of deviants.

'As, I suspect, are you.'

[street_sparrow]

A rat brings a plate of bread and cheese. Who told the rat to do so, and paid for them, is mysterious but not impossible to guess.

Gavroche is sitting in a booth of his own, not too far off, absorbed in a book.

[never_shall_yield]

He halts the rat, and prevents it from unloading its meal and leaving, both. His eyes cast around briefly.

A few seconds later, Gavroche will find himself with a nice supper. He should enjoy it, having paid for it himself.

[street_sparrow]

It returns without the plate, but with a note.

"You can eat and work at the same time. But if you insist, I'll take the hint."

[never_shall_yield]

A note returned, in neat handwriting.

I am in no need of a mother. Either come and converse, or leave me be.

[ostro_goth]

"Greetings, Javert," Teja says, approaching the table.

Pause.

"Who wrote that, originally?"

It is obvious to him -- from his tone -- that that paper is very much in need of a transcription.

[never_shall_yield]

'I have no idea. I do not recognise the hand. It does not belong to any current security member.'

It is barely possible to understand who the criminal was, and what they did. Either the paper is very old, or the handwriting is just that bad.

'Good evening.'

[ostro_goth]

"What case was that about?" Teja asks, shaking his head.

Pause.

"It might even have been before my time. Once, there was even a murder here -- you will have seen the files, of a young man named West?"

[lt_blade]

Sonya enters the bar with a side arm-she's not taking any chances after what happened. She's still in civilian clothes for the time being, but she thought to check in before getting ready to go back to base.

She almost smiled at Javert until she saw the pile of paperwork. "Oh god...they really let it get that bad?"

She's dealt with that sort of paper work before: she can recognize it well enough, and it's enough to make her visibly cringe.

[never_shall_yield]

'This is merely one box of it, mademoiselle.'

So she will forgive him for not stopping in his task as he speaks.

'And only the scraps that must be transcribed so they can be of any use at all.'

[lt_blade]

She let out a whistle. "I get paperwork's not a fun past time, but you'd think keeping it more organized would make it easier in the long run."

She pulled one of the papers out of the box, taking a look at it. "In a bar this random, don't suppose many security workers see the need to write out organized reports."

[shufti]

"Don't worry, I discovered the 'spell-checker' since that one." Shufti says, leaning over his shoulder to look at one of the pieces of paper.

[never_shall_yield]

He does not look up, or startle. He merely continues.

'I do not know what that means,' he says.

'But if you are responsible for this abomination, you should feel shame for it.'

[shufti]

Shufti frowns and sits opposite.

"I taught myself to read from scratch as an adult. I'm not ashamed of getting a job before I had mastered it."

The shiny Security badge is on the front of her jumper.

"You're the new guy, right? Jayvet?"