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

"Of course." Shufti says. "All the men were."

He sighs quietly, and returns his attention to transcribing the notes.

'Do not say of course to me, as if I should have some knowledge of your world, or situation.'

Shufti leans back, folds her arms, and raises an eyebrow.

'I can assure you,' he says, without looking away from his work,

'that that attitude, or expression, will gain you nothing.'

Javert makes sarcastic comments when people point guns at his face. A raised eyebrow from a female does not even register.

Shufti studies him for another moment, then smiles.

"Mr Javert, you don't have anything to prove to me, nor I to you, so please relax."

'And neither am I trying to prove anything. I have nothing to prove to anyone, madame, save perhaps myself.'

He glances up then, genuine confusion in his eyes.

'I am quite relaxed.'

He is, too.

"Well don't be grumpy then." Shufti says, laughing. "We're on the same team."

'No,' he says, shortly.

'I am not on this security team. I am merely ordering your records. I am not one of you, and will not be treated as such.'

"Why not?" Shufti asks, genuinely curious.

'I will no longer work for any kind of police.'

That is all he will say on that.

"Oh, well we're not the police, so that's okay." Shufti says.

"Besides, how does that stop us treating you as an equal?"

'I have had this conversation with your superior; you are a version of the police, and that is the end of it.'

Mel had agreed, so he will stick with his logic.

'I care not how you treat me. Do you not understand? I do not want to be part of any team; I wish simply to do my work, and then leave. You may praise me, or insult me, or ignore me; it is all the same, but my preference is for the latter.'

Shufti watches him for a moment, then nods.

"That sounds lonely, unless you have always been that way?"

'Yes.'

And he has never understood loneliness.

'And now, if you have finished practicing interrogation on me, I should like to return my attention to may task.'

"Javert." A gentle tone that indicates 'don't start', but she gets up.

"It was nice to meet you, take care."

'Good evening, madame.'

He is already redirecting his attention fully elsewhere.