(no subject)

[never_shall_yield]

Javert is back to sitting in his usual corner booth, as far away from people as possible. No wine tonight either; only water to go with his bread and cheese supper. He has a piece of paper in front of him, but for once there is no sign of building designs. It has the numbers 1 to 5 down one side, and he is staring at it as though the sum of his existence depends on filling in the gaps.

After a while, he writes 'there would be no Christian church here without me' next to number 1. Then he stares at it a bit longer...and then draws a line through it, because it is just not good enough.

It seems as though he will be here a while.



[Tiny!tag: Cosette Fauchelevent]

Comments

[electro_kinetic]

Noriko normally is not one to try butting heads with someone she strongly supposes doesn't like her. But a guy staring at a mostly-blank piece of paper like he might actually die if he doesn't write something is kind of sad.

"Existential crisis?" she asks.

[never_shall_yield]

He opens his mouth to snap something at her. And then closes it again, because there is no point having admitted to unkindness if one is not going to try to rectify it.

'I doubt it.'

He pauses, and then adds, 'I do not know what that means.'

[electro_kinetic]

She stays quiet for a long minute, watching him and shifting her weight in the heels she's wearing before she answers him, sitting down across.

"It's...a moment where you question everything, even the foundations of your life. Whether it means anything, or is worth anything. The purpose behind why you're here," Noriko says. "Not a great thing to go through. I'd know."

[is_the_motion]

"Now it makes sense." Bonnie says, in an awed tone.

She sits opposite Javert, and looks at him with a wide-eyed look.

"Are you God?"

[never_shall_yield]

'...what?'

[is_the_motion]

Bonnie points at the sheet.

"My, it explains an awful lot, I guess anythin' is possible here..." she says, in an impressed tone.

"Don' worry, I won't tell a soul."

[cook_the_rude]

"Hello, Javert," Dr Lecter says as he passes. He turns his head to look at the paper.

"No drawing? What are you making a list of?"

[never_shall_yield]

'Nothing, at present.'

He glances up, that is all. Then stares at the paper a little more, with its one scratched-out line.

'Good evening, Monsieur l'docteur.'

[cook_the_rude]

Dr. Lecter looks at him, quietly, and takes a slow breath while he does.

"A list of five blanks," he says. "I wonder what you're drawing a blank on? You seem a bit at a loss."

[onceholyknight]

"Monsieur Javert", Michael says, approaching with an amiable smile. "How are you tonight?"

[never_shall_yield]

It takes a moment to remember his name, but it comes eventually.

'...Monsieur Carpenter. Good evening.'

His smile is thin, but polite.

[onceholyknight]

It's good enough to be getting on with.

"And a good evening to you. May I join you?"

[this_isaturn]

David is coming in from outside to see to his own dinner when he sees Javert. Well, no time like the present for them to talk again, right?
"I'm sure Easter must have passed, since Passover has as well. Is it appropriate to wish one a happy holiday?"


...Look, his best friend is an atheist. It's a thing.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert is jerked from his thoughts, and appears taken aback by the question.

'I suppose so?' he says cautiously, as though not at all sure.

[this_isaturn]

"Happy Easter, in that case. How have you been?"
He's well aware their last conversation was a bit of a faff, but Javert seemed willing enough to believe it was the drink talking, and David sees no reason to disabuse him of that notion.

(The fact that he said certain things aloud was the fault of the drink, yes. But he still thinks Christians are weird, and always will.)

[veryvorkosigan]

The thing about a booth is that if you approach it from the wrong angle, it may look empty until you're right on top of it.

There's a swish of skirts near Javert's table, and then a slightly startled "Oh. -- Sorry, I thought this table was free."

[never_shall_yield]

She is not the only one startled. He jerks his head up, and pulls his hand back, as though caught scribbling something he should not.

'Madame.'

Oh, yes. This one.

'Good evening.'

[veryvorkosigan]

"Is it evening here? Good evening, then." She smiles. "It's midafternoon back home. How have you been?"

[starrydome]

Elrond is almost done with his mending. He is seated at a table a little way away from Javert, where the light is better.

And while he would not approach the Man without preamble, now that he seems preoccupied, he will smile and greet him, should their eyes meet.

[never_shall_yield]

He does look up eventually. And Elrond is a presence hard to ignore, so his eyes are drawn his way.

He nods, because it is polite.

[starrydome]

"Good evening, Javert," he says, his voice light and warm as a summer's day. "You are busy this evening?"

An empty list does not necessarily indicate a lack of thought. Rather, it may indicate too many thoughts to put down on paper.

[ostro_goth]

"Greetings, Javert."

This is Teja, passing Javert's booth with his usual late Roman clay cup containing well-watered wine in one hand, and his guitar in the other.

[never_shall_yield]

'Good evening.'

He looks up long enough to throw a suspicious glance at the guitar. He hopes the man is not about to break into song.

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette has been sitting with her father in quite another corner of the room. But crossing to Bar brings her near to Javert's table.

(Ordinarily her father would insist upon being the one to fetch anything necessary. But Cosette is intrigued by the magic bar, now that it seems this is all real; she wants to try to catch a glimpse of how its items appear, or at least to explore this miracle further. Her father is indulgent.)

Of course she isn't going to interrupt a strange man -- especially one nearly her father's age, with such an unfriendly look to him -- without invitation or introduction. But she can't help but peer curiously at his paper and the way he's scowling down at it.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert has long been adept at realising when he is being watched, even when it is done with more guile and from a greater distance. So it takes no time at all for him to look up.

And no time after that for him to wish he had not. He catches the young lady's eye, and freezes solid for at least the space of ten heartbeats.

Then he looks around for Valjean. Yes, there he is. Their eyes meet for just a second, before Javert yanks his gaze back around to the girl. He does not wait long enough to see the blood drain from the man's face, but does not need to. He can feel it happening to his own.