milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Well, this is new. And that's OK! New is good. Unexpected is not, particularly, and that's why this particular young man's surprise at finding himself wandering strange corridors has quickly melted to suspicion, and then anger.

He schools himself out of it by the time he finds the stairs. He waits at the bottom of them, perfectly still apart from large, dark eyes that flit over the whole place, taking it all in with no expression on his face. Only the Window gets a second look, and when he's finished his surveillance he walks over to it and stands there, staring in mute wonder, one hand pressed to the glass.

He can investigate the room later. This is more interesting for now.

[OOC: Open all weekend! <3]

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He's heard of Napoleon! History isn't really his thing, but the name comes up in so many contexts it's hard not to know it.

'Boring stuff. Reading, and science, and maths, and music, and drama, and history, and geography, and P.E, and religion, and-'

It's all so blindingly simple he wants to pummel his teacher's faces in in frustration. School is a touchy subject for James these days.

'-it's pointless. Don't you go to school at all?'

"No." He considers asking what P.E. is, but apparently it's pointless, so. "What about--isn't there Latin and Greek?"

Everyone keeps saying that Latin and Greek are an essential part of schooling: say it derisively, or resignedly, or--sometimes--angrily, like shouting at a solid stone wall.

'Only in secondary school, and only in a few of them. The schools you have to pay for.'

He'll be going to one of them. State schools are not currently doing him any good, and he'll go insane if he has to be held back much longer.

'Maybe not Greek,' he adds, a moment later. 'Latin gets taught more in Ireland, but it's no use to anyone anymore. Most schools do French or German or Italian.'

He's going to assume that the schools you have to pay for just means the schools you have to pay a whole lot extra for. But anyway, that's interesting, about the Latin, and Jeannot tucks it away to think about. "Why German and Italian?"

The utility of French seems obvious.

((Aaah sorry I didn't see the notification for your reply!))

James replies with more patience than he feels. He's been making a study of responses to perceived helpfulness, when he can be bothered to remember.

'Because we're all in Europe, and there's lots of cooperation. Most people can speak English at some level, but we should learn too.'

He is interested in languages. It seems obvious that being fluent enough to pass as a native would be useful - and anyway, who wants to go anywhere with TOURIST practically tattooed on their forehead?

[OOC: No prob at all! :D]

Patience is very effective: his audience is listening attentively and starting to look almost companionable. "What kind of cooperation? For--" What do people talk about, when they talk about the world? "For trade? And alliances? --France is helping the Polish now, I think."

This goes along with other observations he's made about dealing with people. And it's a shame, because treating people how they deserve to be treated is far more fun. For him.

'Poland isn't in Europe, it's controlled by Russia.'

He is hazy on the details of all this, because while he reads everything and watches the news, math occupies most of his brain.

'It's for trade, and to stop Germany trying to take over. They signed something that means all the borders are going to be open in a few years, and anyone will be able to live anywhere.'

If this were two or three years later in Feuilly's life, he'd hotly contest the statement that Poland isn't in Europe. As it is, he just nods; it's one of those places that isn't France. "Yeah, it's controlled by Russia now, too. That's why Napoleon is going to send troops there, to Russia. Someone was talking about it in a café yesterday."

No one happened to be talking about Germany, not by that name, so he can't really add much to that: but it all sounds awfully familiar in a general way. "But you said there wasn't a war? Just that, that--Falklands--thing, you said."

He would so like to be able to show off and explain what happens with Napoleon and Russia, but he can't because he doesn't know. He makes a mental note to change that.

'Yeah. So?'

He doesn't know what that has to do with anything.

'There was the Second World War years and years ago, and they chopped Germany in half. There's a wall between us and the Communists. Everyone on our side works together-' he is not sure exactly how, but the EEC is definitely a thing, '-and everyone on the other side does what Russia says.'

"So--how is, uh, is Germany taking over?" It sounds a lot like a war to Jeannot. Whoever or whatever Germany is.

...Okay, as James go on, it's clear that Germany is a country after all. One that's been divided up. Again, familiar, although his understanding of world politics at the moment is limited. "That's the kind of thing that's happening all over--because there's a war."

James fixes him with a stare, his patience fraying now.

'There was a war, forty years ago. Millions and millions of people died. This is all to stop it happening again.'

His father has said that. Books say that. James...is having trouble working out what exactly is wrong with wars, because the alternative they have at the moment doesn't seem much better.

Jeannot stares right back, a little impatient with his impatience. He doesn't think he's asking stupid enough questions to earn him that look. "Right, but--but if it was cut in half and Russia controls one side, then why is it Germany you're worried about? Why not Russia?"

'They are. The Americans, anyway. Americans don't like Communists.'

No one does, apparently.

'But it was Germany who started that big war, and one before it when even more people died. They wanted to make sure it didn't happen again, and it hasn't. America hating the Russians is much newer, because they were on the same side in the war.'

Americans seem to hate everyone who doesn't have money, or does things differently, but James doesn't know enough to know if that's wrong or not.

'They fought Communists in Vietnam too, only about fifteen years ago. And they lost. And they both point their nuclear weapons at each other, which could kill everyone in the world. They don't care. They only care about winning. It's not a real fight though. It's called the Cold War. No one actually does anything.'

He's really going to need to find a map, isn't he. America, Poland, Russia, Germany, England, Ireland, Vietnam--he's keenly, painfully, aware that he's arguing something that's at and beyond the limits of his knowledge. And this English? Irish? boy is ready to sneer at any moment. But who else is going to talk to him about anything like this?

He digests it, and finds the least embarrassing question to ask. "Why don't they like Communists?"

Ready and happy to sneer. Though he does enjoy being the most knowledgeable in any conversation, even with his own data being flawed by age and lack of real interest on his part.

'Because they're different, and don't treat money the same way.'

His brain supplies what he knows about political theory and economics, and it isn't much. He makes another mental note to learn. If there's a magic bar on hand, no way is he going to look thick in front of other kids.

'Look, Communists think everyone should work and all the stuff they make should get shared out equally. But America - and England, and France, and most of Europe - they think people should be able to keep the money they make, so there's lots of rich people. And everyone's poor on the Eastern side of the wall and in Russia, apart from the people in charge who take whatever they like. See?'

Makes total sense, right Jeannot? He is the best at explaining.

...There are ways to treat money? Other than spending it, having it, or not having it?

"--They sound like the republicans. Well--a little--" He scratches his ribs. "Are there any poor people in America and, and England, and the rest? Where it's not Communists?"

Many, many ways to treat money.

'Yeah, but it doesn't work because of corruption,' he says, loftily.

'And Republicans just like blowing everything up. They do it all the time at home.'

Something else he hasn't formed an opinion on, barring confusion at how the IRA aren't better at terrorism by now, and also why they're too stupid to learn that they're not getting anywhere.

'There's poor people everywhere. But not starving poor, not like you. In Russia and those places they die of it, and they haven't got any freedom to do anything. They have to sneak out of the East. Some of them get shot climbing over the wall in Berlin.'

The news and spy novels have informed him of this. Also his dad.

Jeannot goes suddenly still about halfway through this explanation, and his face flushes red. "I'm not starving," he says, quietly ferocious. "I work, and I get room and board, and--I'm not starving."

Hungry is different. Hungry is your boss forgot to leave a loaf of bread for you in the workshop again. But it's different from the helplessness he's seen of people who are starving poor.

And Jeannot really didn't want to talk about that, he wanted to talk about Russia and hear why there's a war that isn't a war, and now he's paralyzed with angry shame and he can't remember what he was going to ask. And even more embarrassingly, he's not sure now that he understood right, maybe the boy was just saying that in Russia they're starving--

He scratches angry fingers through his hair and turns back to look at the window, shrugging a shoulder up as a barrier between him and James.

Edited 2016-04-12 11:20 (UTC)

Jeannot did not misunderstand, because there is no age where Jim Moriarty is not a disgraceful little troll. He shrugs now, and throws out a careless, 'sorry,' clearly not meaning it. His face is serious, but he's laughing inside.

'You know what I mean though. Where I come from, there are places bigger than this whole bar, just full of food to buy. And just about everyone can. They don't have that in Russia, or Poland, or East Berlin.'

His brother had some kids from Russia come to his school for a week last year. Not an exchange, because no English kids were allowed to go back. Just three kids, two girls and a boy, who hadn't spoken any English and who stayed with one of the teachers. James had eaten up the news that the boy was fascinated with the computer in the school library, and none of them had been able to believe how much food there was available to buy.

Ugh, can't he see that Jeannot isn't talking to him any more?

But here's something he can say, to get back a little pride. "So? The marketplace in Lyon is bigger than this. And that's just vegetables and livestock and stuff, not bread shops or the other shops."

It sounds rather feeble to him, though, once he says it. Fine. Lyon is less impressive than where this guy comes from. In more than a hundred years. You win, other kid.

...he's starting to like these people in Poland and Russia and East Berlin.

Edited 2016-04-12 12:23 (UTC)

Of course he wins. The smile touching the corner of his mouth says he knows it.

But, whatever. This boy is boring, and James has stood still long enough. He turns with some reluctance away from the window, and says 'big whoop' in response to hearing about Lyon's marketplace. Because, seriously.

'Good luck at work then. I'm going back to school. Bye.'

He doesn't need to be in another place that's full of children, he can get that at home. So he might as well get back there and let time pass properly. He's in a hurry not to be this young, so he leaves Milliways at a decent clip, only glancing back once to give the view out of the window a last, hungry, glance.

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