(no subject)

[just_cant_lose]

 
Jim is lounging on one of the sofas by the fire, reading a magazine (Empire, because he is apparently interested in movies) and looking the epitome of lazy. Jeans, baseball cap, earbuds in, one leg hanging over the armrest. And beer! Cheap beer even; a few empty bottles of Bud, and a huge bag of barbeque crisps. These last are mostly untouched, which probably means they're stealable for anyone in need of either a snack, and/or chilled conversation.

(If he happens to also be lounging in the perfect position to watch the entire room, and also the back door, it is surely coincidence.)

Comments

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Oh! Lounging! Lounging is lovely, what a marvelous activity, best thing to do when you can't be strolling. Or when you have been strolling, or before you go strolling. Anyway. Lounging. Good stuff.

Here's someone come along to lounge too? Lesgle flops himself easily onto a comfy chair next to the couch, and puts his left foot up on a stool.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim's eyes emerge from behind his magazine, followed by an easy grin. When he pulls out an earbud, the strains of Rossini may be briefly heard before he switches it off.

'Hi, Lesgle.'

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Rossini! Now that's a welcome sound, something from home. Lesgle beams. "Hello, hello! And what's new in London, or have you been here all this time?"

[just_cant_lose]

Jim likes the classics. Which is probably not fully in-character for this persona, but who doesn't have the odd foible here and there? And he's sick of listening to terrible pop.

'Oh no, I've been home. I just popped in for a few drinks to help get through Monday, you know how it is.'

First day of the working week, bleurgh.

'Nothing much new going on. How about you?'

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Hey, well, Rossini will win Jim instant 1830s Parisian approval.

"Monday? A hideous invention, or so I recall from days when I had to mind the calendar. --New, new, what's new. Were you here for the fire?"

[just_cant_lose]

'The worst invention in history.'

Seriously.

He drops the magazine flat on his chest, and reaches for a bottle.

'Oh yeah, I saw the fire. Helped put it out, a bit. It looked nasty.'

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle has a glass of brandy already, and raises it in salute. "Well done! I was on my way to help, but I tripped over a cat and sprained my ankle." A nod to the foot propped on the ottoman. "Have the doctors fussed over you yet? I only ask because Joly has insisted I warn everyone about the potentially delayed effects of smoke inhalation. I have a brochure if you want it."

You don't have to if you'd rather not, says his tone of voice. He's just doing his duty to Joly.

[just_cant_lose]

Jim looks vaguely perplexed by this.

'Uh, no? I didn't see a doctor. There was no need - I wasn't there long before the...whoever he was, came and flooded everything.'

It had been an impressive display, and he has made many mental notes and stuck many small question marks next to Seimei's face in his mind.

'I think I saw Joly though - the small guy with the doctor stuff? He's your friend?'

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Well, if you start coughing or experiencing shortness of breath--headaches--changes in mental status--do step on over to the infirmary here. They're wonderful. Joly is a doctor there. Remarkably clever, best fellow in the world, my dearest friend."

The sort of person you'd memorize symptoms of smoke inhalation for, apparently!

[just_cant_lose]

That's dedication! But Jim considers that it doesn't have to mean friendship. He's sure Sherlock has memorised all sorts of pointless details around him, just as he has in return, and it doesn't equate to friendship.

Something more, though. Something better. More interesting.

'Best fellow in the world? Like, there is literally no better man, in your opinion?'

His tone is gently teasing, and his smile is friendly. You're cute, Bossuet!

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

It's tragically uninteresting, Jim. Lesgle is looking positively starry-eyed, an absolute sap, although technically he dodges the question: "Oh, it's uncharitable to ask for qualification. I couldn't say that Joly is the best dancer in the world, and--never tell him I said this, but I wouldn't pick him for a career in the opera or on the stage; I doubt he'd make the best sailor in the world; indeed if you're looking in a strictly traditional moral sense he's only fair-to-middling; the light doesn't arrange itself to shine like a halo around his head every time he says something particularly sublime," --unlike some people Lesgle knows-- "but in the common way of speaking, certainly. Best fellow in the world. And wonderfully scientific."

See? Tragically uninteresting.

[just_cant_lose]

Oh, he has no doubt that Joly and Bossuet's relationship is completely uninteresting. Love is so pedestrian; anyone can do it. An intellectual entanglement is so much more fulfilling, particularly when violence is inevitable.

But never mind that. Jim just eyes Lesgle with a knowing grin, drinks some of his beer without bothering to sit up, and murmurs, 'sounds like a great guy. He's lucky to have a friend like you who thinks so much of him.'

Barf.

'I bet he says the same sort of stuff about you.'

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"I beg your pardon, are you implying that I wouldn't have a future on the stage? That I'm not a missed talent? That I wouldn't be the best sailor in the world? That I am morally fair-to-middling? In Joly's eyes, anyway? I assure you, Jim, he has much better things to say about me."

[just_cant_lose]

'He's not exactly objective, is he?'

He's laughing as he says it, and holds his hands up in submission.

'I'm sure you're the best sailor in the world, and no one appreciates your true talent. And I definitely hope you're better than fair-to-middling in the morals department.'

He rather hopes he's worse.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle appears to ponder over this. "Now that you mention it, I don't know. We seem to have skipped the bit with the pearly gates and St. Peter, so unless there's some sort of test--holy grails, burning swords, siege perilous--we'll never know. Unlike a friend of mine who stumbled into some bit of the Egyptian afterlife on his way here, got everything weighed and sorted and signed in triplicate."

Dammit, Prouvaire. Getting divine validation before anyone else can.

[just_cant_lose]

Well now.

Jim raises himself up onto one elbow to give this some deserved attention.

'Egyptian afterlife?'

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"I'd consider it a flight of poetic fancy--with all due affection and respect for a dear friend--if there didn't seem to be an authentic Egyptian deity lurking about the place to confirm it."

What can you do, it's Milliways.

[just_cant_lose]

He regards Bossuet for a second or two, then flops back down. Ugh, actual deities. So cheating.

'If you have to die to get there, it doesn't sound great anyway. Think I'll stick to drinking Monday evenings into oblivion. Who's your friend, though? Another one from Paris, or someone you met here?'

Afterlives are tricky things, and this place even more so. If he dies but still has to live, that'd be awful.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Yeah, enjoying an afterlife where you get to hang out eternally in a bar with your friends does sort of require having friends in the first place. Or at least liking other people. Not constantly wanting to kill them?

Lesgle, for instance, looks quite contented with it, if a little bored.

"A Paris friend, Jean Prouvaire--a poet, perhaps you've heard of him?" (Lesgle would be neverendingly astonished if Jim had heard of the poet Jean Prouvaire. The character Jean Prouvaire from a French novel, however...)

[just_cant_lose]

'Sorry, I'm an idiot. No idea about poetry.'

He has, however, read Les Miserables. Even re-read it, since meeting some of the cast here. But if Lesgle's about to suggest he climbs down and mingles with the ordinary folk for the sake of a more fun afterlife, prepare yourself for an internal explosion of haughty derision, young man.

Not plan to kill people. Listen to yourself.

'I suppose you're more into it than books. Did they even have proper novels in 1832? S'pose you must have done really...I don't know, I'm not much of a reader either.'

Except for glossy film magazines, possibly.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Well, of course very little had been invented; we were all sitting in our caves. But we did have Notre-Dame de Paris, Le dernier jour d'un condamné...Han d'Islande..."

bossuet you troll

[just_cant_lose]

Jim rolls his eyes, and pushes his cap a bit further back on his head.

'You know I didn't mean that.'

Don't be obvious, darling.

'Notre-Dame de Paris? You've read that? That's famous enough that I know about it.'

Also, y'know, written by Victor Hugo. In a universe that includes his characters? Unexpected.