milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Marius Pontmercy enters the bar unaccompanied by his wife, a somewhat unusual sight. Stranger still, he looks almost-- relaxed. Well, at least not as timid and wary as he often looks when wandering into Milliways. And he's been in the sun: his cheeks and nose look faintly burnt, though he's ordinarily so pale, that probably didn't take much.

He does seem surprised to be here, and that brings a touch of the usual tension back into the set of his shoulders. But it's not a wholly unpleasant surprise, evidently, as he doesn't turn back. He has a book tucked under his arm, and this is just as good a place to read as any, really.

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Fantine, sketch pad in hand, comes in for coffee and cake.

This attained, she takes a seat, and only a few minutes later does she realize who else is here. "Good day, Marius." It's absurd to feel shy around one's son-in-law, so Fantine resolves she won't.

And only a very silly person would feel shy with his mother-in-law! And Marius is obviously not silly.

"Madame, how do you do?"

"Oh, very well." She pauses and takes in the sunburn. "Do you come from Italy?"

"Why, yes!" He looks a touch abashed as he says it: it almost seems like boasting, to speak of their travels to her. "We landed just a week ago."

"How was the ship, and the sea, and everything?" Fantine has never traveled by sea, and finds it a frightening and exciting idea.

"It--" Marius seeks for a diplomatic and not embarrassing answer. "I had never traveled by sea before. I do not think I will strive to make it a habit."

Fantine's eyes widen. She is imagining, not embarrassing seasickness, but high waves and higher peril. "Was it very frightening?"

"Oh, it's all perfectly safe," he assures her quickly. He hadn't meant to direct her thoughts towards danger! "I believe Cosette quite enjoyed it."

"Oh, good," Fantine says, and then spends a happy moment imagining her daughter laughing on the deck of a picturesque ship, under a bright sun, surrounded by the blue of sea and sky.

Then she belatedly gets the implication. "But not you?"

"No." Marius looks embarrassed. "I don't believe sea travel agrees with me."

"Oh," she says, suddenly imagining all the ways in which sea travel might be just plain uncomfortable, rather than perilous. "Well, I hope you are recovered from the voyage and enjoying your time in Italy, then! Are the people there nice?"

Eponine is around. She always is, she supposes, even when she's been out of sigh for a very long time.

She's hanging about the shadows at the edge of the room, doing some reading of her own when she spots him. "Y'ought to keep a hat on. Won't get red, that way."

She knows something about such problems herself, after all.

Her voice makes him jump, and any relaxation in his posture is gone at once, replaced by the flood of things her voice inspires: nervousness, and guilt, and the confused flash of her voice from the darkness and smoke of the barricade, and guilt, and uncertainty what to say to her and what to do-- oh, and also guilt.

"Ah, yes," he agrees, turning redder with embarrassment. "I-- misplaced it."

Part of Eponine wishes he wouldn't feel so guilty about the whole situation but well - he wouldn't be Marius if he weren't the responsible kind.

"Should ask the bar for one," she suggests. "If you're going back out. She's always kind enough to me when I ask to borrow."

And it's nice, to be able to borrow instead of having to steal.

"Yes-- yes, I will. Thank you."

She gives him a smile, leans back in her chair. "If you want to sit down for a minute, I'll oblige you."

Eponine's pretty sure it's all right for a married man to chat with an associate. If she counts as one of those. She supposes she sort of does, by now.

"Oh, no, no," Marius says quickly (as her real point soars far over his head, sorry Eponine). "I won't impose."

"I promise you," she says, "it's not imposing! I'm not busy, I've been..." she gestures towards the books piled three to her side. "Improving. I need a break, and a pastry or two, and my brother doesn't mind if I charge to his account."

Her smile's a bit devil-may-care, a little wry. She's still roguish Eponine, at heart, even if she's different on the surface from the one he remembers.

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