milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

In one part of the bar, Valjean is sitting by the fire. He has tea, and a book about the cathedrals of Spain. But it is not open; instead he is sitting with his chin on his palm, staring into space and clearly deep in thought.

In his usual secluded booth, Javert also has a book. It is about railways. In contrast to Valjean, he appears to be trying to read it, but is distracted by the itch of a burn on the back of his hand, and also by the effort of not looking towards the fire. He has things to speak with Valjean about, but there are any number of obstacles between this point and that, and he cannot bring himself to make the effort. C'est la vie.

[tiny!tag: Quentin (October Daye]

[OOC: Dialogue at the start of first OOM taken directly from canon. Pick a Frenchman! Or both separately, completely up to you. Post open until about midnight Thursday GMT, and I'm here ~~until about 2am tonight, and~~ all day tomorrow. \o/

ETA: Exhaustion has hit, and I'm done for the night. Catch y'all tomorrow, and thanks for tagging! <3]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Everything?

But Valjean simply gestures feebly towards the television.

'What is this, monsieur?'

"A movie about Gauls with magic powers and Romans. Its based on some comic books. I used to read them when I was younger."

This does not help in the least.

'Forgive me,' he murmurs at last, his eyes pulled back to the moving images.

'I do not understand what you say.'

It may be clear from Valjean's clothes that he is not from a modern time; even dressed as a gentleman as he is, the style is dated to far before the twenty first century.

To Quentin its not obvious as he's used to people dressing in outfits that went out of date centuries ago,

"No, its fine. Ask away and I'll try to answer."

He gestures towards the television again.

'The...panel, with the - are they pictures? What is this, monsieur?'

It makes no sense that there would be small people behind the screen, but he does not understand where the noise is coming from, and how painted people are moving and why they are speaking French.

"A recording of a performance like a radio play combined with a theatrical play but more,"

Not everyone in his world understands modern technology so this isn't too weird a conversation.

He continues to look blank.

'I know of the theatre, of course,' he says, in an effort to contribute some knowledge to this conversation.

'But I do not know what a radio play is. I am here from 1832; there is no such thing that I am aware of.'

"Oh, right, then this is like if someone captured a theatrical performance while adding more to it,"

Other than that he doesn't know how else to explain it.

Valjean looks back towards the thing. So, it is like a play? A drama? It is not real.

'I...see. Perhaps. But how are they put inside this thing?'

"They're not, its projected and recorded. Like shadow puppets but um ahead of time?"

That seems off but this is hard.

He thinks about this for a good long time, his eyes riveted to the display. Recorded, to him, means put down on paper. But in the future, there are obviously other ways of doing things - it would be strange if there were not, probably. So. Yes. Perhaps it is something that will make sense, in time.

'...very well,' he says, eventually. And with clear wariness.

'Thank you for the information. I apologise, I have been rude. My name is Ultime Fauchelevent.'

It is not polite to inflict questions on a complete stranger so.

"Quentin, Monsieur Fauchelevent. I'm sorry I can't make it make more sense,"

This conversation makes him think of his dream and he eats a donut in a few bites.

'It is not your fault. It is my understanding that is lacking.'

He looks at the remaining doughnuts, and remembers again: October.

'It will be Halloween, then? I have been here for one of those before.'

"No, I'm sorry. I had a rather strange dream and this reminds me of being younger. It will be yes. What happens during then?"

He's read the brochure but that only explains so much.

'Costumes, for the most part,' he says, rather shortly.

He does not want a re-visitation of what he was forced into last year. The gold lame trousers and exposed neck haunt him still.

'The bar does not give you a choice of whether or not you wish to be dressed up, nor of what you must wear. It can be uncomfortable.'

Quentin nods as the Queen is always doing that especially to Toby,

"That doesn't seem too bad."

'Perhaps not.'

He is not one to complain, so does not.

But if he were, he would.

"But you didn't like it? Why not?"

His smile is dry.

'I was put into the most outlandish clothes. Shiny gold trousers, and a shirt like the skin of a leopard. I was not allowed a cravat, and when I asked for a scarf, it was also gold and sparkly.'

Given how conservative his current clothes are, perhaps it will be clear why he did not approve. He will not explain about how the scars on his neck were nearly exposed, but that was the real trouble there.

That sounds weird and Quentin tries to picture it, "Huh, she must have odd taste."

'There were worse things.'

Valjean is not a judgmental man - the opposite, in fact - but there are some things he has always been absolute on. Women being allowed the protection of discretion is one of them - and the bar made them wear all sorts of thing that would be shocking to anyone of his time. He is not happy about it, even if the women themselves seemed quite at ease.

'But it can be avoided if you simply stay away. I intend to.'

"I'll remember that but I don't mind dressing up," His idea of what's normal to wear is a little skewed.

'Yes. Many modern people - from this timeline, that is - seemed to enjoy it well enough.'

He picks up hie tea and takes a sip.

'You are new then, monsieur?'

"Yes, I am and I'm used to dressing up."

'Then you should enjoy yourself.'

It is a thing he has noticed, that young people of the future enjoy a spectacle. They might do in his time also, but the spectacles of 1832 tend to be far less exposing.