(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

[never_shall_yield]

'Yes. Well. I have the modern clothes.'

And is absolutely not going to get into another discussion with this man about affording things. He will see.

'Are you going to sit?'

[the_cupbearer]

"I know," Ganymede says. "That was why I told you to bring a coat, not that I'd give you one."

He pulls out a chair and sits down, quiet. "If that will make you happy."

[never_shall_yield]

He had been reaching for another sheet of paper from the mess in the box. Now, he stops.

'It is less irritating than having you stand over me.'

He finds himself strangely disappointed with Ganymede's answer.

'Happiness is not a concern. Be on your way, if it suits you.'

...now with the right account!

[the_cupbearer]

He looks over, one eyebrow cocked.

"I had planned on finishing some paperwork, if it's all the same to you," he says. "Since the other tables appear to be taken."

:D

[never_shall_yield]

'If you had planned it anyway, why bring my opinion into it at all?'

He sometimes suspects the bar is not translating their conversations properly.

'Never mind. Of course, stay.'

[the_cupbearer]

"Just because I plan on something doesn't mean it will happen," he says.

[never_shall_yield]

He does not know how to respond to that.

'Strengthen your plans?' he suggests, and finds a new piece of paper to glare at.

'It does not matter, in any case. I have no objection to your working here, you were planing to do so anyway, I can continue my task, we are set.'

Ganymede throws him. He has not yet learned how to counter this, apart from the obvious solution. But he does not want to never talk to him again, so it is a problem.

[the_cupbearer]

"Oh, good," Ganymede replies, and pulls a ball-point pen from his pocket, clicking it open and beginning to fill in the balance sheet.

"I did mean to ask you earlier and forgot; do you celebrate Christmas?"

[never_shall_yield]

'You mean, is it celebrated on my world? Or do I personally celebrate it?'

He would have thought either question would not require his answer.

[the_cupbearer]

"You personally. You are a Christian, or so I have assumed. Or was I wrong?"

[never_shall_yield]

'No, not wrong. As far as they will have me, at least.'

He tries to focus on the words in front of him. His fountain pen needs refilling.

'My normal Christmas is Mass at midnight, followed by work until late in the evening. I acknowledge, rather than celebrate.'

[the_cupbearer]

He nods. He's not saying as much, but now he's got the definite idea of giving something--anonymously, otherwise he'd never hear the end of it--to Javert for the midwinter holiday.

"Perhaps you should one time," he says. "It's a very joyful occasion, at least insofar as I've ever been present at it. Very pretty music."

[never_shall_yield]

'You mean, this joyous remembrance of the birth of Christ, celebrated among friends and family?'

He looks up at Ganymede, almost amused.

Because, no.

'Do you do something instead of it?'

[the_cupbearer]

"I celebrate the solstice, yes," he says. "The turn back toward the sun and life beginning again. I have attended Christmas services before, though. you seem particularly amused by that. Or is it disbelief?"

[never_shall_yield]

'Disbelief that you would bother; disbelief that you might think I would.'

Mass is enough to mark the day.

'Having said that, I do not see the benefit of celebrating the solstice either, but do as you will.'

[the_cupbearer]

"Midwinter is dreary," he says. "It's nice to celebrate something at that point."

[never_shall_yield]

'Yes, no doubt.'

He would change the subject at this point, but then something occurs.

'Is there a big fuss made here? It seems the sort of place that would not need much of an excuse to create pandemonium.'

[the_cupbearer]

"I've never noticed one for Christmas, no," Ganymede murmurs, still writing. "It seems that there isn't much fuss made for religious holidays here."

[never_shall_yield]

'Well, of course. It makes perfect sense that everything would be backwards.'

This annoys him more than he cares to admit, and he refills his pen with rather more zeal than necessary.

'Do you mean to say non-religious celebrations take place here? Such as?'

[the_cupbearer]

"I mean to say that what were once religious holidays--Mardi Gras, Halloween, things like that--are celebrated, but in a secular fashion. And for a reason, I suppose; there are so many people here and each with their own take on religious that it would be nearly impossible to have any uniformity in that regularly."

[never_shall_yield]

'I keep getting told about all the gods around the place. I suppose if religious holidays were normal, each of them would want their own celebration. It would be quite disruptive.'

Perhaps the Landlord has actually done something right.

'I met a man recently who had only barely heard of the Bible, and had no concept of God. That is pitiable. It is not as bad as those who know of God, and are too lazy to apply themselves. But still bad.'

[the_cupbearer]

"Or those of us who predate your Christ?" he asks lightly, looking up for a second.

"I have heard it said that faith is universal, and the means by which we achieve it are entirely arbitrary. Some people pray, some meditate, some study infinitesimal particles all looking for the same thing."

[never_shall_yield]

'Or those, yes, I suppose.'

Oh, he does not want to consider what that predating might mean. He absolutely cannot.

'I do not think faith is about looking for anything. It is simply there. It is to be relied upon.'

He does not know what it is for, anymore.

'What does this theory presume is being searched for?'

[the_cupbearer]

"Meaning to life," he says. "Some reassurance that life is not simply an accident, or so I have been told."

[never_shall_yield]

'Ah.'

He fights the urge to laugh. It would not have been a nice one, anyway.

'This is not for us to understand, that should be clear.'