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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]

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'Yes, you have mentioned this to me already.'

He does not see the appeal of the same place, 1500 years in the future, but in the interests of conversation he adds,

'I still do not know what a motorcycle is. But Ganymede is going to let me drive his car, and also take me to a place where we may travel at two hundred miles an hour. So he says.'

He does not truly believe this is possible, but the boy had seemed sure.

"A motorcycle," Teja says, "is a machine, much like a car but with far less iron to carry around. It is like a great steel steed that you ride astride, one wheel in the front, one in the back, with the motor in the middle, a saddle above it to sit on, and a handle-bar to steer it. Not having all that heavy iron to pull around that a car has, it can accelerate very fast, take corners very fast, and combine the agility of a small thing with the power of a great motor. It is loud, exhilarating, and wild."

Pause.

"My motorcycle does not go all that fast, but it doesn't need to."

'Like a horse, only with the parts of a car.'

He only has cars as reference, Teja may understand. He did not pay any attention to the other vehicles that had not been explained. So he has seen motorcycles, and did not ask what they were, so does not think of them now.

'It is not a competition to see which is more enjoyable, I think.'

Or perhaps it is. Either way, he is confident in the superiority of the car.

"I have driven a car," Teja says, "in the world of -- it does not matter whose. But yes, I have. It was an unremarkable little blue car, and it went from one place to another. But a motorcycle suits my nature far better."

'Then use it.'

He picks up a new piece of paper, and begins to read it.

'It is of no matter, in the end. I do not know if one machine or another can truly suit a nature at all, but then, I have not driven one yet.'

This report is nearly as bad as the last. He lets an exasperated breath through his teeth.

'On whose world did you drive the car?'

Teja sighs.

"Pyrrha's," he says. "You know her not. She was..."

He shrugs.

"She was my betrothed for awhile."

'Ah.'

He glances up, and takes in the man's expression, his stance.

'And no longer.'

"No longer, indeed," Teja says.

He is somewhat at a loss.

'If that causes you distress, I am-'

He breaks off, because although he was about to try a social nicety, to actually say 'I am sorry for it' would be a lie. And he does not tell lies.

'I understand that might be difficult?' he hazards, a moment later.

Teja seems to think for awhile, and looks at Javert, and then nods -- deciding that anything that Javert might learn from this, however small, is worth the brief distress this causes.

"It is difficult," he says, "as I still love her, and she dismissed me from her good grace for something I did wrong."

'If you did wrong, you can expect nothing less.'

That is not so difficult to understand.

'What was it you did?'

"Apparently, spoke of something that she did not wish spoken of, no matter what the circumstance," Teja says. "I did it because -- for reasons. That are complex, and I would not in turn speak of."

'Very well.'

Javert, unlike most people here, will not push when someone says they do not wish to speak of something.

'I am sure there will be other women. People do not seem to have trouble finding them.'

So, it is well.

"There is only ever the one and only Pyrrha, and I love her," Teja says, fire in his eyes. "Cannot you understand keeping faith with one you love, despite all odds?"

He blinks. Teja seems so calm most of the time, and a rational man, that he was not on the alert for a sudden burst of emotion.

'No. I have never done this.'

He is not cowed by the sudden fire, not embarrassed by his answer. It is simply the truth.

"Never loved?" Teja says. "Was you life any more peaceful for it?"

'How would I compare?'

Really.

'I imagine so. Peace was not my aim.'

"What was your aim, then?" Teja says. "Duty, that would have been disrupted if you had felt free to love?"

He lets a breath out through his nose.

'I will never understand the preoccupation with love of everyone in this accursed place,' he mutters, a little more than exasperated.

'I worked. That is what my life was for. Anything else was unimportant.'

And love would have been the worst of all. He has never felt it, never received it, and does not see the point of it.

"Duty, then," Teja says.

Pause.

"Or simply disinterest? Not all have it in them to feel love, or desire."

This is an excruciating conversation.

'It is not your business, monsieur.'

"It is not, truly," Teja says, "but if it was, I would say it is a valid choice -- rarer, and more often debated by the ignorant than some equally valid choices. Not loving for the sake of duty, as I did while alive, was strange for some here, and hard to understand for them when I was new, but this may be odder still for people who are so preoccupied with love, as you say."

'In truth, it seems it matters not whether I am interested or not. It is apparently my path to redemption, so I will have to try.'

He admitted to Ganymede, under duress, that many years ago he may have occasionally felt interest. But he ignored it, because that life is not for men such as he. Trying to remember how it felt is impossible.

'And I care nothing for what people here understand, or do not.'

"They will badger you," Teja says. "I was badgered as well, on occasion, for my choices often were seen as lacking in worth to some others."

'They will have to learn to stop. Or, more likely, will lose interest.'

He will tell them to stop until he is blue in the face, if he has to.

'In truth, I cannot see why it is of importance to any but myself.'