(no subject)

[femme_a_soldat]

Today, in the bar, you can observe exhibit B, one tall, robust but slovenly woman, hair messy and bust displayed favourably by her dress, idly sweeping the floor with a broom she found somewhere, looking moderately busy while extremely curious about everything.

Madame Thénardier would probably love to be bothered.

Comments

[never_shall_yield]

This is new. He has never in his life seen the Madame without the Monsieur. He has no particular desire to speak with either, but the policeman that still resides in him cannot resist the urge to perhaps find out more about her intentions.

So, he approaches. He does not bow.

'Are you being employed to clean? There are small orange creatures who reside here to fulfill this task.'

[femme_a_soldat]

"Good evening, dear inspector!" she declares, cheerfully. "No, I'm merely making myself useful. People won't step on me as easily as they would on small orange creatures, don't you think? I'm sure they'll be glad for the help."

She rests her broom and sweetly smiles at him.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert, as ever, is entirely impervious to women smiling at him, sweetly or otherwise.

'Where is your husband?'

[femme_a_soldat]

"Why, inspector, do you want something of him?" she asks.

Playfully, she sweeps around his feet.

[never_shall_yield]

'I would like to know where he is.'

Which is what he asked. And he does not move as she sweeps. He does not move for people such as she.

[femme_a_soldat]

"About somewhere," she says, airily waving with her broom. "I don't know where exactly -- maybe the kitchen? I haven't put a bell on him, he's no tomcat!"

She gives a low laugh, and smirks at Javert.

[never_shall_yield]

He imagines that is exactly what he is. At least sometimes.

'Have you gone home, and come back?'

[street_sparrow]

Gavroche watches her for a while, bemused.

"Is this community service?"

[femme_a_soldat]

"Oh no, my dear," she says. "I just like to keep useful, you know?"

[street_sparrow]

"It's good to keep busy", he agrees neutrally, and glances around. "On your own tonight?"

[femme_a_soldat]

"Oh, my dear sergeant is about somewhere," she says, waving airily with her broom. "I can't always keep tabs on him, can I?"

[street_sparrow]

Gavroche eyes her. "I seem to remember you used to try. But you probably couldn't here, you're right."

[femme_a_soldat]

"I don't have to, here," she says. "Where should he go? No, he's welcome to ramble while I'm chatting to the clientèle."

[lt_blade]

Next time Sonya's in the bar, she finally has the cast on her leg removed, the bandages on her leg covered by her pants. The knife wound still ached like a bitch, but atleast she could move her leg, if painfully.

Being back at the base, she was busy checking files for men that could replace those in her unit, the files taking up three neat piles. The work was depressing enough, she didn't need to be in the base for the reminders either.

When Madame Thenadrier's broom came close enough, Sonya used her un-injured leg to move one of the chairs out of her way.

[femme_a_soldat]

"Oh, I'm sorry, dearie," Madame says, reaching over to help with the chair. "Whatever happened to your poor leg?"

[lt_blade]

The question makes her pause. The downside of working at milliways was that everyone had to ask, back home the most they did was give a pitying look: though truthfully Sonya couldn't be sure which was worse.

"Line of duty, someone tried to pull a sneak attack and knife me-I lived, he didn't." That was all she was going to say in the matter. By now she'd told the story (what she was allowed to repeat anyway) so many times that it left her feeling numb.

[femme_a_soldat]

"The streets can be so mean," Madame says. "Seems that even in the shiny future people here talk about, it doesn't get any better. Can I get you anything so you don't have to get up?"

[lt_blade]

Sonya shrugged. "It was an assignment." This was milliways: she wasn't sure if anyone here really cared for what she did in the special forces, but she'd read the posters on these two. "We went in armed and knowing the enemy would put up a fight, even from a sneak attack."

They just didn't know they were ratted on and expected. Sonya'd only found out who it was, but until the ranks were filled, she couldn't do anything about it. "No, I'm good, thanks."

[femme_a_soldat]

"Who on earth would send out a pretty young lady like you on a job like that?" Madame asks, flummoxed. "There's so many better ways to earn some dough!"

[electro_kinetic]

"You are seriously about to fall out of that dress," comments one girl, shock of blue hair falling over the side of her head from the mohawk it's in.

The rest of her is seriously no less colorful, and though her (very spikey) heels are off and resting on the table, she's painting her toenails a bright froggy green color. "You might want to find an undershirt, or a camisole or something."

[femme_a_soldat]

"Have you fallen into an artist's palette?" Madame enquires instead, laughing. "I assure you, girl, my dress is doing exactly what I want it to, as is that little Grecian shirt you wear, I'd guess?"

Maintaining the right impression of deshabillée is an art form, after all.

[electro_kinetic]

"Don't call me girl, you won't like the name I call you," she says with a dry smile. "And no, I just like being this colorful."

[femme_a_soldat]

"What reason do you have to call me any names at all?" Madame asks, all hurt innocence.

[electro_kinetic]

"You call me girl in that tone you just used and that's all the reason I need to call you whatever I feel like," Nori replies, twisting in her chair.

[femme_a_soldat]

Well, she supposed to be good here, isn't she?

"I can call you mademoiselle, if you prefer," Madame Thénardier says, sweetly.