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[just_cant_lose]

 
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]

Comments

[tu_vas_triompher]

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?"

[just_cant_lose]

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.

[tu_vas_triompher]

...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?"

[just_cant_lose]

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.

[tu_vas_triompher]

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.

[just_cant_lose]

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.

[tu_vas_triompher]

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.

[just_cant_lose]

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.