Closed Post: If at first...

[futaille]

Grantaire has seen the coffee maker being used in passing. He has not had to use it himself, as usually when he's in the kitchen, he opts for other beverages. But he knows he really should speak to Enjolras. And he also knows that even if Enjolras already has coffee, that coffee will probably either be horrible or it will have congealed into unrecognizable sludge that he will still somehow be attempting to drink, and that's just not acceptable.

So he's bound and determined to make Enjolras some coffee. It can't be that difficult, right? He grabs a bottle of wine, just to sip at while it brews. (Also, to fortify his courage. He's surely going to need it.)

On his first attempt, he has no idea what happened. Cleanup is a chore, but he actually gets assistance with both cleanup and strategy from a helpful mademoiselle with quite a bit of hair who explains the need for coffee filters, as well as the general steps one needs to take to brew the coffee in this thing. She's apparently taken one apart.

The second pot actually manages to brew into actual coffee without grounds everywhere. But upon tasting, he didn't use nearly enough coffee. Rejected.

Third pot? Too much. Rejected.

The fourth pot looks promising but the coffee is just nowhere near as good as he wants to present to Enjolras.

He finds a different variety of coffee for the fifth pot. It looks much more like it. But that sets the ratios all askew again.

Finally. Finally, pot number six turns out to be what he was looking for. He pours it into a large insulated mug that he finds in a cabinet, puts the lid on tightly, and heads off with a large mug of hot coffee in one hand, and a (now...) half-bottle of wine in the other.

There's a conversation that needs to be had.

Comments

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras can likely be found in the hall that he and Sagramore were using for sparring earlier this week. The events of yesterday, while exciting, have impressed upon him that he really should be more in practice with his rapier than he is, and so he has found himself a dummy of some kind to go at, seeing what he remembers of his youthful fencing lessons and occassional bouts with Courfeyrac in Paris. It is more than he expected, but he could use some work regardless.

In any case, he's taking a moment to rest and catch his breath, seated somewhere convenient for a wandering Grantaire to find.

[futaille]

It's a swift search, as a quick glance at any room is easily enough to tell whether someone Grantaire has been staring at for years is present. And he spots him out of the corner of his eye as he's passing by a large doorframe.

He nearly stumbles as he enters the room, though, but it has absolutely nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with what a quick glance out of the corner of his eye didn't tell him.

A voice in the back of his head tells him to run away and save it for another time, but no. He put far too much work in to turn back now.

So he clears his throat and extends the mug. "Coffee?"

[untamedantinous]

He raises an eyebrow, both at the mug and the offer, but nods and wipes his face with a towel. “This is….unexpected. I take it you are well after…yesterday?” He hadn’t seen Grantaire out and about fighting; but he hadn’t expected to either.

The break in his practice is welcomed, at least, though his heart is pounding a little more fiercely than he would like it to. Perhaps it’s just nerves; though it is stupid for him to feel nervous around Grantaire.

[futaille]

"What?" It takes him a second to even realize what Enjolras is referring to¹. "Oh! Oh yes, of course." He smiles slightly ruefully. "You know me. True to form, slept through nearly the whole thing. You were probably in more danger than I ever was. So it's good to see that you're well."

¹ Enjolras wiping sweat from his face with a towel might be slightly distracting, in fairness.

[untamedantinous]

“Eh, they weren’t too much of a bother once we figured it out. But I am embarrassingly out of practice,” with a nod to his rapier, lying off to the side there.

“A break is welcome, though. Unless you wanted to join me?” But judging by what Grantaire is carrying, that was not his intent. He takes the mug, looking at it curiously. “Where did you find this?”

[futaille]

Grantaire shrugs. "It was in a cabinet in one of the kitchens. It looks like it will keep the coffee warmer for longer than normal, so I figured that might be useful. You know, in case you get distracted by something and you forget you have it, maybe once you remember, it won't be like cold tar."

[untamedantinous]

“I haven’t done that since we’ve been here.” That’s not entirely true, but small details. “…But thank you, anyway,” he continues, remembering himself.

“I’m glad you are well. After, uh, ….everything.”

[futaille]

He waves a hand absently, grabbing a chair of his own and sitting. "It's fine. I'm fine. I promise you, it's nothing I haven't become very used to living with." He smiles, slightly ruefully. "More glad you're well, under the circumstances."

[untamedantinous]

"It's not fine, but--" He shakes his head. "I shouldn't have pressed you about it, and I am sorry. I am --well as I might be, I suppose." Which is not very well, but --why is it so easy to talk to Laertes, who wasn't even there, and yet he cannot say a single thing to Grantaire? It's maddening.

"I did not realize how much of an effect ...Paris had on me." He gestures, ineffectually, but meaning to encompass 'the barricades and the last week or so in Paris' in that gesture as a whole. "You, I suppose, if I remember rightly, missed most of it."

[futaille]

"I missed most of it," he echoes with a nod. "Occasionally, I would register, perhaps, some sound, or piece of conversation, or what have you, but... yes. Slept there until I died. As I requested, I suppose." Something entirely too wistful to be a smile briefly crosses his expression as he recalls Enjolras's response to that request, but it's gone as soon as it comes. He takes a short pull from his bottle of wine.

"If you wish-- but only if you wish-- you can tell me about it. Our friends were... as good as men get, I think. I would like to know their final stories. If not now, maybe some day, when it becomes easier to tell them."

[untamedantinous]

Is that a flash of guilt on his face? It might be, but he covers it admirably well by taking a sip of the coffee Grantaire so generously provided.

After that's done, he sighs, and settles on his own chair. "I can say with certainty I saw three of them, but I --yes, maybe someday. I do not think I can talk about all of it today, but you should know some things, though I do not know where to start."

[futaille]

Grantaire notices that flash, of course-- there's very little he doesn't notice about Enjolras-- and places it pretty easily. Enjolras was the leader, after all. And furthermore, he's here and they aren't. It makes every bit of sense, and he has no intention of commenting on it.

"There's no easy beginning, of course. Probably not an easy middle, either." The end, though, the end he knows by heart. "Just... whatever strikes you, whenever it strikes you. Whether it's in five seconds or in five weeks. I won't be going anywhere, Enjolras." His voice turns a bit wry as he adds, "I know I'm not the most reliable. But at least it's this place making the promise for me, so you can probably at least count on whatever it is that's keeping us here."

[untamedantinous]

Well, yes, guilt for that —which he has mentioned, but glossed over; and perhaps also for his words to Grantaire before he passed out. It was, perhaps, too harsh. But he had been in a harsh state of mind at the time, to say the very least.

“I will try. It may take time, but I would like to spend time with you,” he starts, a little uncertain. “We have another chance here, and I know it is —I am not the easiest person to be friendly with. But you and I are the only ones from Paris here. I would like to take this chance that has been given us, if we might.”

[futaille]

He remembers the harshness, yes, but harshness had always been a part of Enjolras, and it never once affected his regard. It was rare for him to have given any reason not to be harsh, at any rate, in part by design. He'd already been weighed by himself and found wanting, after all, so why offer more to the one whose opinion had the greatest value. That opinion, after all, was much more positively swayed by far grander things than he could muster. Here, though...

"You, difficult to be friendly with? Not at all. Your friendship, though, is a wide brush. Fraternité, yes? What is a laugh or a game with a friend compared to showing your friendship and brotherhood by working to try to bring gifts far greater than I could even fathom? I know I hold no high opinion of those gifts, but I admire that you do."

He shakes his head and has another drink. "I know our world has gotten much smaller now, but I'm perfectly content to help you hold the memory of the larger one."

[untamedantinous]

“You are very biased,” he replies, taking a long sip of his coffee, but he is smiling faintly.

“—And thank you. We must, ah, introduce some of our knights here to cafes, I think. I did say you were the expert, after all. …If we can even figure out some way to do that here. It won’t be quite the same.”

[futaille]

"Oh, I think I'm only slightly biased," he says, grin sprouting brightly on his face at the sight of that faint smile. "I think I gave a fair accounting."

"As for cafés, that might be a trick. We'd need the space, and people for both staff and visitors. You're far too pretty to be Mere Hucheloup, and half the draw of a café is the chatter of the patrons around you."

[untamedantinous]

“Mm, no, quite biased.” This is easier than he expected. Still a little awkward, yes, but knowing that his cause is entirely separate from this strange mansion has made him warm to the fact that this might be a new start for both of them.

“We’ve space enough for a dragon,” he points out dryly. “As for staff, perhaps the cold boxes would be accommodating, they seem to work well enough.” At the last, though, he pauses for a moment, considering a reply. “Yes. Or the billiards tables.” This, too, is extremely dry.

[futaille]

Grantaire finds himself immediately glad that he's not in the middle of taking a drink, because although he certainly does not mind being undignified, he doesn't mean the undignified of a spit-take of wine. As it is, his expression manages to quickly make a winding journey from Did he just... to He can't know. to But does he know? to How can he know? to I think I might have reason to hate truth spells. to Deny. Everything. and even if Enjolras certainly hasn't made the study of Grantaire that Grantaire has of him, it's almost certainly at least somewhat legible. And probably hilarious.

"It might be a good idea to have a communal gathering spot, yes," he ventures, pretending it's a smooth recovery.

[untamedantinous]

It truly is, even to someone as blind to social cues as Enjolras tends to be. He is trying very hard to not laugh; though his eyes look like he might burst out at any moment.

“Yes,” he agrees, gravely. “Good for the meetings, too, whenever those might happen.”

[futaille]

For all that's not an expression he's used to seeing directed at him, he certainly notices it, and steels himself not to look sheepish, opting to reply to the actual conversation. "Clearly the only reason meetings haven't spontaneously sprung up around you is the lack of an appropriate space for them."

[untamedantinous]

He rolls his eyes a little, but it’s fond enough. “There’s plenty of appropriate spaces; but less appropriate subject matter. I still think they would be beneficial in any case.” They’ll just need to make sure all the billiards tables are locked up beforehand.

[futaille]

He shrugs. "It doesn't need to be focused. Let anyone who comes talk about what they want." A grin grows on his face. "If no one wants to talk, I'm sure I could manage to fill the time."

[untamedantinous]

“Oh, I have no doubt you could,” still extremely dry, and he shakes his head slowly, but still with a glint of amusement. “I do not think the mansion needs your version of the Marseillaise when they do not even know the proper one.”

[futaille]

Grantaire laughs, just a bit, and has a drink of his wine. "Now, I'm sure some here know the proper one." His smile grows wry. "That said, I have several versions. Which one are you referring to?"

[untamedantinous]

“Any one of them, I should think,” pertly. “I have heard all of them, I believe.” He takes another sip of his coffee, settling back in his chair.

[futaille]

"Oh, surely you can't have heard all of them. Most, I will grant, but I'm certain that there are some variations I originated when you were unfortunately not present." He grins, leaning back in his own seat. "I know you probably dreadfully missed my performances, but I will not hold it against you."

[untamedantinous]

"Regardless, I have heard far too many for my own liking. Of both your performances and the Marseillaise." He shifts in his seat a little, searching for something else to talk about. Now things are starting to get a little awkward, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

[futaille]

"That is, I suppose, fair." Grantaire does not want to let this drift into one or the both of them running away from each other again, although he has not had nearly enough wine to not have the urge. Still, there is a ready enough topic to hand. "So, what would we need to acquire for a café? A good space, seating... a cold box to drag through the hallways to get to that space..."

[untamedantinous]

"I think they are called a 'fridge'," he supplies helpfully. "Magnus told me so. --And perhaps he might help us, or Laertes, as well." He does have the good grace to not blush at the mention of Laertes. Instead, though, he takes yet another drink of coffee.

"We would also need tables. But this place is large enough that we might find plenty of spares."

[futaille]

"Fridge. Interesting name, but all right. And I met Laertes. Good man." He makes no other comment on the matter, but waves a hand at the rest. "Eh, I was counting tables as part of seating. You can't just have chairs and nowhere to hold your drinks." He pauses. "Unless you put your drinks on other chairs, but do they just count as tables, then?"

[untamedantinous]

"I have never considered it." He generally doesn't consider that sort of thing, he's got better things to worry about. "I don't know, what else is there? Aside from decent company."

[futaille]

"I mean, decent company is the most important part anyway." He shrugs. "If anything is missing, the company makes up for it. Although if the drinks are missing, it really can't be called a café any longer. It's just a room, if a room with good company."

[untamedantinous]

"I would say I would leave it to you to find the drinks, but I do not know if they would even make it to the cafe." He considers this for a moment. "Did you make this coffee? It is quite good."

[futaille]

"Maybe just a drinks cabinet that isn't being used. Even I can't seem to empty one of those." At the question, though, his train of thought shifts. "Oh." He shrugs, as offhandedly as he can make it over the internal thrill of knowing his effort actually worked. "I did, yes. It was no trouble, really."

[untamedantinous]

"It is better than most any I could make. Then again, I am no great cook, either." He has, at least, learned a new dish thanks to Laertes. "It will take some time, but I think we might be able to figure it out sooner or later."

[futaille]

He smiles and takes a long drink. "You know... it may shock you to the core to hear it, but I completely agree with you."

Honestly, he's finally beginning to think it applies to more than just the café, too.

[untamedantinous]

“Do you?” He does look a little surprised. Pleasantly so. “I am pleased to hear it, in that case.”

Perhaps he was right about Grantaire, after all. It is a nice feeling, but he’s going to stop himself from saying so and perhaps ruining things by turning his attention to his coffee again.

[futaille]

He grins. "I will point out that it's not a blanket agreement with everything, and I fully intend to disagree with you in the future. But if I didn't, I would probably be unrecognizable, and I'd like to think you might prefer if I stayed myself."

[untamedantinous]

“I think I quite would, yes.” There’s another small smile, mostly directed at his coffee cup. “Otherwise things might get quite dull around here, and we cannot have that.”

[futaille]

The most that Grantaire had honestly been expecting to come from his statement was a wordless roll of Enjolras's eyes, humoring him regardless. There were a number of other possibilities as well, but unqualified agreement, fond unqualified agreement at that, he was simply unprepared for. It feels almost like getting to the bottom of a staircase but expecting one more step. He has no response ready immediately, so he takes another drink to give himself a moment to come up with one, which finally finishes the bottle.

"Well, I am many things, but dull is certainly not one of them."

[untamedantinous]

Now the expected eyeroll is coming, but it’s still tempered with a smile. “I don’t think we could call any of our friends ‘dull’ in the slightest. They would be quite offended if we did.” There’s a slight pause.

“The same goes for people here, I am finding. Everyone is fascinating.”

[futaille]

"I think people are fascinating in general, at least individually. On the whole, humanity is ridiculous and very probably a bad idea from the start, but individually? Yes, they're excellent. And then combine them in small doses?" He laughs a bit, still delighted by this. "Well, then we have you managing to turn a prince into a revolutionary."

[untamedantinous]

He blinks a little, setting his coffee down for a moment at that. “Laertes is not—“

It’s an easy enough deduction, since there are only a few people he has been espousing philosophy to, though, and he raises his eyebrows. “You and a prince? I suppose I should have guessed it, considering he and Laertes know each other, but—“ He honestly doesn’t know whether to laugh or be slightly impressed. Maybe it’s an odd mixture of both.

[futaille]

Oh that's entirely too many dots for him to have accurately connected at once. Grantaire's eyes widen just a bit. "Oh, that is very much not why I brought that up and I am perfectly content to set that entire discussion aside." A pause. "You were practicing, right? You really shouldn't let me get in the way of that, I can just sit quietly--mostly quietly-- to the side if you wanted to continue."

[untamedantinous]

He is not entirely blind, thank you. “I am not —you may do as you will, of course, I am only surprised.” (If Courfeyrac were here, he would be collapsing of laughter.) As it is, Enjolras shakes his head, hoping to the heavens that he is not turning as red as he thinks he might be.

“And what do you intend on doing? Making dry comments?”

[futaille]

"I will just say I did not know he was a prince at first and move on entirely." He clears his throat. "That said, I can applaud a good hit as well as the next person. I'm not sure fencing is the 'dry comment' sort of activity, although I'm certainly willing to try."

[untamedantinous]

“Let’s, yes, leave it at that.” Hopefully that damned blush will fade now.

“I was thinking perhaps less watching and more joining me, if you are open to it. I know fencing is not entirely to your taste, but I will admit I am very out of practice.”

[futaille]

"I'm a singlestick fighter, not a fencer, and I have a bottle of wine in me besides. You'll dismantle me in a heartbeat." Still, though, he stands and sets his empty bottle down. "But if you insist."

[untamedantinous]

“At least give it a try, hmm?” He does insist, clearly. (Also, he is not entirely willing to give Grantaire a free show. If it were a few days prior, he would hardly even have noticed.)

[futaille]

"Yes, yes." As Enjolras asks, so Grantaire will do. He crosses the room to grab a sword of his own, lifting and testing the heft. "Oh, this will take some getting used to."

[untamedantinous]

"Oh, come, it's not that bad. Metal as opposed to wood, it's basically the same thing." He stands to get his rapier again, taking a moment to stretch out.

"Come on then, try a pass."

[futaille]

"Basically the same thing. Heavier, weighted differently, and flexible, but yes. Same general shape."

Still, though, he keeps his eyes on Enjolras as he stretches and stands in a loose ready position. "Ready?"

[untamedantinous]

"I have faith in your abilities. If you can handle a stick, you can handle a rapier." with a little wry lipquirk. Certainly a marked change from Paris, but perhaps a welcome one. He has, indeed, tried to make a new start her.

"Whenever you are, yes." And he goes in to his own ready position, waiting.

[futaille]

A marked change from Paris indeed, and it's one Grantaire can't help but notice. It's such a small thing, but he wants to at least partially justify the offered faith. This time, anyway.

He takes a breath and nods, adjusting his grip and shifting his weight a bit before he darts forward, feinting at shoulder height before swinging his sword to Enjolras's leg.

[untamedantinous]

If he's moving like he would with a singlestick, then Enjolras blocks it fairly easily; and parries it with a quick thrust.

"See? I told you it wouldn't be so hard."

[futaille]

He is indeed, out of practice. He manages to jump back out of the way of the thrust, though. "No point, though, so it was hard." He's grinning, though.

[untamedantinous]

"I told you I needed practice." There is a brief grin back, before he readies himself for another pass. He considers for a moment, then feints to Grantaire's right before attempting to circle back to come at his left side for a hit.

[futaille]

He manages to get his sword up to block the hit, but it's a near thing, and he doesn't have the leverage for a counter. "Close one."

[untamedantinous]

“Well, you are a bit harder to hit than, uh, the undead. Somewhat faster.” That grin might be called teasing, if one was feeling charitable.

[futaille]

"I can shamble around if you'd like. Make it simpler for you." He sets up for another pass himself and just tries for a direct center thrust.

[untamedantinous]

“No, you’ve only had one bottle of wine. Not nearly enough to shamble.” He’ll be easily side stepping that, in that case.

[futaille]

Grantaire can't help but laugh. There are a lot of things he can't help in regards to Enjolras, and this new facet of him, playful and teasing, is making nearly every single one of them worse.

"You're right. I would need several more for a creditable shamble. I could go retrieve some if you'd like." He doesn't even pretend to actually leave to do so, instead shaking out his limbs and standing ready for the next pass.

[untamedantinous]

He’s truly not intending to make it worse; but he is pleased with how well this has been going so far.

“And give you an excuse to quit? I think not,” primly, but he’s still grinning as he goes into another feint before aiming for a center thrust of his own. “The exercise will do you good, Joly would say.”

[futaille]

He overcommits to the feint and Enjolras manages to land the first hit. "Ah! Point to you. Also, Joly would say no such thing. Joly would say 'But what sort of diseases can you get from a dragon?'"

[untamedantinous]

“Well, Joly has not met our dragon; and he is delightful and likely does not have any diseases. How many points shall we go to?”

[futaille]

"Oh, I don't think the dragon has diseases," he replies a touch wryly, "just that Joly would worry. And I'm assisting in your practice, so I'll go to as many points as you wish."

[untamedantinous]

“Of course he would,” a little fondly. “…I don’t know. How does three sound?”

[futaille]

"Three it is." He smiles a bit, a thought occurring to him as he gets back into ready position. His next pass imitates Enjolras's feint into center thrust that scored the first point.

[untamedantinous]

“You’re going to have to try harder than that,” grinning, as he maneuvers to slide Grantaire’s blade to the side.

[futaille]

"I don't know," he says with a shrug. "I've already lasted longer than I thought I would, so I'd say I'm doing quite well."

[untamedantinous]

“I told you it wasn’t so hard.” He settles back into a guard position, considering his next move. After a moment, he starts to feint to the right and then attempts to veer around to the other side. It may or may not work, depending on how well one judges Enjolras’ body language.

[futaille]

Out of the things that Grantaire has made himself familiar with over the years, Enjolras's body language is somewhere near the top. He parries the strike and takes the opportunity to try a quick answering thrust of his own.

[untamedantinous]

Oh, good, making things somewhat challenging now, and he's trying to dart out of the way but not quite making it. "Well, a point for you, then."

[futaille]

"Even score, then!" He smiles wryly. "Egalité. You must be thrilled."

[untamedantinous]

There's a mildly amused eyeroll in answer. "Ah yes, what I strive for, as you know."

[futaille]

"I think I may have heard you mention it once or twice. At length." He goes back into a ready stance, shifting his weight. He delays a bit, just to alter the timing, before springing forward and striking at Enjolras's leg.

[untamedantinous]

“Ah—“ He almost loses his footing, scrambling out of the way looking far more undignified than he’d like, but he doesn’t get a hit. “That was clever, well done.”

[futaille]

"And well-dodged," he concedes with a grin. "Clearly you're just a bit more clever."

[untamedantinous]

“Or more in practice,” with a wry lipquirk. He settles back into that ready position, circling some as he considers his next attack.

[futaille]

"Or that," he agrees cheerfully. "Very likely both." He stands ready as well, watching Enjolras closely¹.

¹ Like always.

[untamedantinous]

He continues circling for a moment or two before finally deciding on his attack, a feint to the left and then he’s going to try and sweep at Grantaire’s feet.

[futaille]

He doesn't fall for the feint but he does try to do a bit too much and jump over the sword, which is probably not the best idea having had an entire bottle of wine. Not only does he, in fact, get hit, he stumbles on the landing and very nearly falls over, only just managing to recover. But, at least, recover he does. "Another point to you, then."

[untamedantinous]

There's a mildly amused snort, seeing as Grantaire has not managed to hurt himself. "Yes, but I wasn't intending for you to almost fall."

[futaille]

"But I only almost fell, so that's fine, even if I wasn't exactly at my most graceful."

[untamedantinous]

“Whatever makes you feel better,” amused. “It’s your go now.”

[futaille]

"Yes, yes, of course." He stretches some and gets back into ready stance, watching for an opening before coming in low but sweeping the blade higher than might be assumed.

[untamedantinous]

Now it’s his turn to almost fall, tripping over his own feet as he tries to back up and avoid that touch. He does recover from that, at least, but alas, the touch lands. “Two for you as well, now,” he says, laughing a little.

[futaille]

"Now, I've had a good amount of wine. What's your excuse for that one? That committed to egalité?"

[untamedantinous]

“I have none,” and it’s a tad sheepish, but he’s laughing. “But certainly, we’ll go with your suggestion.”

[futaille]

He laughs, then as he readies himself to defend Enjolras's next pass. "In that case, I am pleased to help."

[untamedantinous]

This one, then, is very direct, if only because he's mildly getting his bearings back from almost falling: a quick lunge towards Grantaire's chest. "You are already helping, but I do appreciate it."

[futaille]

He does manage to parry the blow, stepping to the side as well. "Perhaps I have decided to be at least somewhat useful here."

[untamedantinous]

"If so, then I will continue to be pleasantly surprised." There's still a grin.

[futaille]

"Wine, tedious words, and surprises. Three things I am frequently in possession of." He makes his own next pass, a lunge of his own that veers right upon approach.

[untamedantinous]

"Certainly plenty of surprises in this place." He does manage to dodge that one.

[futaille]

"It seems that strike was not quite surprise enough." He grins. "But you're right. Some surprises better than others, in fairness."

[untamedantinous]

"Well, yes, I don't think any of us enjoyed the last week." Aside from the murdering zombies. That was, he had to admit, certainly needed at the time.

[futaille]

"I have had worse weeks," he says, nodding, "but not many." He readies himself for Enjolras's next pass.

[untamedantinous]

"It was decidedly unpleasant." He considers for another moment or two, then attempts a lunge, ending up somewhere near Grantaire's right shoulder.

[futaille]

And although Grantaire does try to parry, Enjolras lands the third and winning hit. He huffs out a rueful laugh. "Well done. I was hoping to make it at least a few more rounds."

[untamedantinous]

"I mean, you did do awfully well for your first time, so don't feel too bad." Especially after a bottle of wine.

[futaille]

"Well, it's not stickfighting, but it's not that far off, in the end."

[untamedantinous]

"I did say as much," with an amused lipquirk. He moves to set his rapier down and will start toweling off, once more. "Thank you for the bout."

[futaille]

"You did, yes." He puts his own away, keeping Enjolras in his field of view, but not being quite bold enough to stare. "And it was nothing. Simple enough to provide."

[untamedantinous]

Thank you for not staring, Grantaire, he does appreciate it. "Well, at least only your pride was a little wounded. Now. Is there anything you did wish to talk about, or was the coffee out of the goodness of your heart?"

[futaille]

He shrugs. "My heart lacks terribly much in the way of goodness, but I don't know that I really had anything specific to talk to you about. I was just... reminded, recently, that I should make some sort of effort. We're all each other has of home, and even though I know I'm perhaps barely in the top ten of people you would have chosen to be here, I also probably shouldn't make it more difficult."

[untamedantinous]

"We are, yes," he says softly. "We should spend more time together than we do, probably; the reminder is nice." Well, the cafe will likely help with that, though he certainly doesn't intend on spending all his time there. "Everything is turned on its head here."

[futaille]

He nods. "Yes, we should. And yes it is." He's thoughtful for a moment. "It was never really true, I suppose, that I believed in nothing. Just... nothing particularly high-minded. I could never abandon believing in friendship, and yet I've been running from you at every other opportunity."

[untamedantinous]

"I knew that already," with some warmth -- and perhaps a touch of fondness. "Yes. I know it is difficult, here, but all new things are when you start at them for the first time. It is just hard to remember that, as well." Especially when you're as impatient as Enjolras tends to be.

[futaille]

"Little by little, the bird builds its nest¹," he replies with a shrug. "A twig at a time, I suppose."

¹ Petit à petit, l'oiseau fait son nid. Why yes, the typist did in fact do some frantic googling of French proverbs, why do you ask?

[untamedantinous]

“A twig at a time, yes. Until we can figure out a way to guide ourselves without our guide. ….Though he may show up yet, who knows with this place.”

[futaille]

He nods. "Clearly. If even we showed up days apart, anything could happen."

[untamedantinous]

“Well, we have seen that this place seems to have a sense of humor, terrible though it may be.”

[futaille]

He looks wry. "A terrible sense of humor would be Bonaparte arriving."

[untamedantinous]

“Ah, but our resident dragon would likely throw him out of the mansion before he set a foot inside,” he says, darkly amused. “If I am a Jacobin, Temeraire is just as bad.”

[futaille]

"And Temeraire has significantly more teeth." He pauses. "I think. I'm not sure how many teeth dragons actually have. They might just be larger."

[untamedantinous]

"He has quite an impressive amount. And claws, of course. He is surely a formidable enemy." There's a slight pause. "It is very difficult to imagine Buonaparte with a dragon, isn't it?" Imagine what could have happened if the Amis had had a dragon.

[futaille]

"Extremely difficult. When Temeraire told me, I was so confused. In fairness, though, it was before I found out about people from multiple worlds being present."

[untamedantinous]

"Ah," he nods. "Yes, at least I encountered him some days after my immediate arrival."

[futaille]

"Yes. I mean, I know I was hardly the best of students, but I thought I would have at least recalled being told that Bonaparte had a dragon."

[untamedantinous]

“If anyone, you would think Pontmercy would have mentioned it.”

[futaille]

He laughs. "Oh yes. That first day especially, he would have waxed rhapsodic about the Emperor's noble dragon."

[untamedantinous]

He rolls his eyes heavily. "From all I have heard Temeraire say, she is a piece of work as well."

[futaille]

"Oh, very likely. Of course, I am also a piece of work, but at least I never flew Bonaparte anywhere."