1830- a very different bar

[clayforthedevil]

It's not like Bahorel assumed they'd win. It's not even like he assumed he'd survive; if a revolution was so easy to ensure, they'd have one every day. He's used to seeing the whole effort go wrong, fall apart into a series of street brawls, injuries and deaths counted as a toll for The Next Time.

This, though--winning and still watching it fall out from under them-- is a different thing. It's not settled, not enough to start fighting again. So here he is, at a properly sympathetic cafe, trying to drink himself out of starting another riot before it's really necessary(some people might say riots are never necessary. Some people don't understand politics at all, really). And here's Bossuet entering the bar, with whatever thoughts he might be holding at a time like this, and probably no more money than he usually has. Bahorel waves him over.

Comments

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Actually, Bossuet has ten sous in his pocket, which is ten sous more than he often does. So when he sees Bahorel he grins. "Bahorel! Let me buy you a drink, and then you can buy me a meal."

[clayforthedevil]

That gets a laugh. "Had a change in fortune? Perhaps a new age is dawning after all." Free drinks for every man? It actually sounds like one of the compromises being discussed. He snorts at the thought. "Any news?"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Indeed it is: I moved Joly's bed temporarily to retrieve something and found my current ten-sou treasure. It's not a very bright dawn, or much of a new age, but apparently those are the sorts of adjustments that pass for revolutionary in these parts." Bitter? No, no, no one here is bitter.

And--hm. Any news. Laigle takes a seat by Bahorel and rubs his head: still a little tender from the flower-pot.