milliways_bar | (no subject)

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]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Women are allowed a vote?'

That is not what he was expecting to hear, and it pulls him up short.

"They can", he confirms. "In the early part of the 20th century, a number of them began agitating for it. And then there was a major war, most of the men of Europe were called away to fight, leaving only women, old men and children, and a few men considered unfit or indispensable, to do the work. Even when the war was over, millions of men never came back. After that, it was considered that the women had earned it."

Javert stares at the boy, his interest caught.

'Millions of men?'

Not by the women - when has he ever been interested in women? - but at this notion of a large war.

'More than the Napoleonic Wars? Who was the enemy?'

"Far more", is the grave response. "It lasted almost exactly four years, and the weapons they had then... terrible things. Most of Europe was involved, but the enemy from our point of view was the German Empire, with Austria-Hungary and the Ottomans on their side. France was allied with Britain, believe it or not."

With Britain. England?

He shakes his head. No. That is something he finds hard to believe, and also, 'I do not want to know any more, monsieur. It does not concern me; I will be long dead by that point.'

"Yes", he agrees. "Eighty years or more... yes, you certainly will. Best not to know some of these things."

'Best not to know all of it. More, I am not interested. Bad enough to live one life through, than imagine all the years after.'

If there is such a thing as reincarnation, Javert wants no part of it.

"In that case, no more shall be said. Not from me, at any rate."

'If you keep your word, I will appreciate it.'

A nod, and he turns back to his work.

'Now if you will excuse me, I must return to this. It will never be done, otherwise.'

In this instance, he will never speak of "future history" again. It wouldn't serve any good purpose.

"Of course. Do remember to eat at some point."

'Yes, mother hen.'

He is already sinking back into the words, receding from knowledge of the boy's presence.

Gavroche notices it, and wanders off again, taking his plate and book with him.