(no subject)

[never_shall_yield]

 

Some things are too hot to touch
The human mind can only stand so much...

The scene behind Javert as he enters the bar is no longer quiet, and no longer shows countryside. Before the door swings shut, loud voices can be heard singing a bawdy song, a bottle smashes on cobbles and a woman shrieks with laughter. Anyone sitting close by might be treated to the kind of smell that can only be found in a crowded 19th century city that boasts unreliable sanitation.

Javert ignores the bar and everyone in it, and disappears to the grounds at once. 

Ten hours later, when it is dark outside, he can be found back in his usual secluded booth. He is absentmindedly digging a splinter out of his palm with a pin, and also contemplating a glass of red wine on the table before him.


[OOC: Open for a few days! <3]

Comments

[fry_sandhu]

Fry doesn't look at the splinter, or at the wine, but he does sidle up next to Javert and offer him the spinning top to play with.

[never_shall_yield]

And is treated to a confused sort of frown in return.

[fry_sandhu]

Fry spins it on his table, and then offers it to Javert again.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert watches it spin (still frowning), and then resumes his confusion in the direction of the boy.

[fry_sandhu]

"It can help when everything is loud." Fry says, looking up at him.

will be slow with tags.

[lt_blade]

Sonya enters the bar soon after he's sat down, dressed in black BDUs and a locks of hair having escaped the knot on the back of her head. There are smudges of black grease paint around her face since she's wiped it off in a hurry, and over all she doesn't look entirely well kept. She actually meant to arrive in the women's barracks to change, but she'll take Milliways as it comes.

She's just glad she was able to deposit her body armor this time.

"Alright if I sit here?" She sounds something between drained and frustrated. The Bar's especially crowded this evening and Javert just happened to pick the one secluded booth.

[never_shall_yield]

'Yes,' he says tonelessly, and continues digging at his palm.

He barely looks up, but that is more because of concentration than rudeness.

[lt_blade]

She orders steak sandwich and a cola, having not really had time to eat all day (not the best habit, she knew, but hell like she put that into practice. Only when she takes a sip does she really observe what he's doing-and that he's not doing a very good job of it.

Reaching into her vest, she pulls out a set of disposable tweezers and some rubbing alcohol wipes from her medkit. The tweezers were actually meant to pull out bits of shrapnel, but they'd suit well enough for a splinter-certainly better then what he was doing.

"Here." She pushed both the tweezers and wipes towards him. "You'll have better luck with them then a needle. The wipes are to disinfect the wound afterwards."

Given what she knew of Javert, he probably wasn't aware of infections, and it's clear from the look of him that he'd been working outside.

[never_shall_yield]

He blinks at both these items - and at the fact she would offer them. Still, he can see at once that tweezers will be far more effective.

'Thank you,' he says, and takes them. The thing is dug in, but the fact it is quite large is an advantage with these instruments.

'You carry such instruments at all times?'

Odd.

[lt_blade]

"During assignments." She clarifies. "Just enough to take care of an injury that doesn't require a medic, or if one's required, we can stabilize the injured or injury long enough for a medic to arrive." In combat, sometimes even small wounds can turn into hindrances.

"It just happened that milliways showed up before I could take the kit off." Lucky for him, or he would've probably dug a hole into his finger with the needle.

[the_cupbearer]

"You know, you could ask for help with that," murmurs a voice from over his shoulder. Ganymede looks darker--more tan, and the bleached-white of the snakebone jewelry he has does nothing to dim that.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert's hands still. It takes a moment for him to glance over his shoulder, and when he does, the white jewellery on tanned skin....well, it makes an impression.

He looks away.

'Why, when I can just as easily do it myself?'

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede raises a brow. "Same reason as any other interaction. And I can use both hands."

[never_shall_yield]

Well, that escalated quickly. Javert cannot help a smirk - he does not know whether to be pleased with himself, or disgusted, at so easily recognising the reference.

'I will assume you mean for the removal of splinters.'

[the_cupbearer]

"What else would I be using both hands for on you?" he asks, admittedly a tad amused at the fact that he gets a smirk instead of a scowl, even if he really hadn't meant it to be an innuendo.

That's usually for after the greetings, but it doesn't mean he can't tease along with the joke. "I trust you don't mind me pricking you, then."

[starrydome]

Elrond passes him and offers him a "Good evening."
Nothing in his demeanor suggests that their last parting was somewhat difficult or awkward.

Elrond is a diplomat. He has been spat at and then had to sit down at the table with the same people. He has opened his home to dwarves.
This is nothing.

"Will you need something for your hand?"
You shouldn't allow wounds to fester.

[never_shall_yield]

'No.'

It is an automatic answer, and he barely glances up.

'I can do it.'

[starrydome]

"I have no doubts about that. But you have nothing to clean the wound with and even small wounds can be a hindrance."
When you are building things.

It's all said calmly.

[never_shall_yield]

'It is only a splinter. It will not hinder me.'

Germ theory is still a few years in his future. Cleaning a wound is a minor consideration.

He looks up, takes in the elf briefly, then returns to his task.

[starrydome]

Elrond would not be able to give a truly scientific explanation either of course.
But he has treated plenty of mortals, so this he knows. Dirty wounds lead more often than not to infection.

"I once had to amputate an arm, from the elbow, due to a cut not bigger than what you have there," he says. "If you had had spirits instead of wine, that might have been sufficient for now, but when you work with your hands, dirt is not avoidable. The young man learned to make due in time, but had he been more diligent he could have been spared much suffering."

[ostro_goth]

In the evening, when it is dark and Javert is contemplating his wine instead of drinking it, Teja is sitting by the fireplace with his harp, playing ancient music.

For once, he has neither cats nor fox-cub with him.

[never_shall_yield]

He glances over when the music starts, and frowns a little. But he does not say anything, even though it annoys him that he is forced to listen.

[ostro_goth]

Teja does not even sing; he simply plays.

The presence of the small cloud of grump hanging over some secluded booth in the bar only makes his melodies grimmer and sadder.

[never_shall_yield]

Which in turn serves to make him more grumpy.

In the end, he sends a rat with a note asking him to stop. There is only so much melancholy he wants to listen to.

[ostro_goth]

Teja stands up and turns around to give a somewhat offended look at Javert.

None have done such a thing yet, ever since he came to Milliways!