the awkwardest slumber party

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel half-kicks the door to his rooms open, and saunters in as well as he can with one arm attached to someone he actually doesn't want to slam into a wall (which is pretty well, really. Bahorel's had a good deal of practice being handcuffed. Some of it his friends even know about!)

With his free hand he waves around the rooms in general invitation, without specifying anything-- everyone whose opinion about this counts already knows where everything is, and that it's theirs to use if they want-- and steps aside to let everyone through.

And to let himself see the spy's reaction at the general dramatic decorating choices of prints and scattered oddities and bones and flowers, some framed directly by the door.

Comments

[wings_of_a_swan]

"There are considerable internal negotiations, yes," says Combeferre, in response to Enjolras's question. "The other planets don't have a history quite as long as Earth's. But they have a long enough history to develop divisions, and inner conflicts. Each planet has its own systems, and then there is the interplanetary one."

Combeferre has mostly been ignoring Javert, and talking (and yawning, both because he's tired and because Javert's objections are boring as well as wrong) right over him. But he hears this last burst of frustration at Bahorel, and smiles. "If Joly hadn't been so willing to learn from people who live centuries after us, and in other worlds," he says, mildly, "I can think of at least one person who would have died."

Then he goes back to the more interesting subject. He, too, pitches his voice so Feuilly can hear, and Jehan, too, who's cuddling the cat in the corner. "And of course there's a greater diversity of art and language once people spread to the other planets. One of the greatest political battles was fought over which languages would be official, and which would not."

[never_shall_yield]

Javert's face goes flat in the span of a heartbeat, and his tone borders on threatening when he says,

'Leave him out of it.'

He defies explanation. Javert was talking about normal situations.

'And medicine is different to politics. Your friend is working here; very well. The rest of you are not.'

This does not mean he likes Joly, but at least he has some use.

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Enjolras's eyebrows lift slightly. He did glance at Javert a few times as he spoke, but otherwise he's been seeming not to take any notice.

He has no great confidence in anyone's ability to make the spy think, but it's certainly been amply demonstrated that Enjolras's arguments show no signs of getting through to him. Let others try, and either amuse themselves or have better luck. Enjolras is not going to bang his head against that particular brick wall, especially right now when neither of them can walk away.

(It's an interesting reaction, though. In keeping with others, but -- interesting.)

So, to Combeferre, he says, "Tell me more. What was the conclusion of their negotiations?"

Not that there's ever a fixed point, in reading these histories of future worlds: yes, this is the end, here is where it calcified, or and here we stand, today, the future a mystery we will build ourselves with each act and decision. But all the same.

[merryeccentricities]

The coffee maker now perking along happily,Joly trails with Bossuet back towards the conversation. Space! And government!

..But he gives Combeferre a mildly reproving look at the veiled mention of Valjean. Joly's own discomfort with hearing his work mentioned so is something he'll try to talk about later; it's only a feeling, right now, nothing he's prepared to argue.

To Javert, he only says. "Combeferre is working in the Infirmary too. We've both been able to learn how to work here, in large part because we learned all we could of theories that were only a hypothesis in our own time. Such things require a great deal of discussion to understand. How is government different? Both are ways to help people live well, if they're to be any good -- any use--at all."

[never_shall_yield]

Javert's gaze, levelled at Joly, is quietly furious.

'Confidential?' he says, because they had talked about that, and...damn it all, he should have known better than to think one of these children would keep their mouth shut.

He looks away, not trusting himself to not say more on that. His eyes light on the cursed painting, so he has to look in the other direction.

'That is my point. No matter what any of you come to understand about government now, it will do none of you any good at all. And no one else either.'

[merryeccentricities]

...No. Javert can be annoyed all he likes, but he doesn't get to malign Joly's confidentiality, not when Joly's been knotted up over so many of Javert's secrets in particular, unable to ask advice from any of his ownclosest friends in the name of that professional oath. There's the slightest touch of frost in his answer. "What, that I work in the Infirmary? Or that we've had patients that can only be helped with the technology here, and not in our time?" Combeferre said nothing else. And Joly said nothing at all. " And some who arrive very publicly?" And Joly can't do anything about what the whole Bar sees.

...But wait. He knows Javert's not well. Could this be some sort of disordered thinking? That people only know what Javert wants them to know, and anything else requires external interference? Hmm. The edge of offense fades in concerned speculation.

[never_shall_yield]

'The whole bar does not know he might have died.'

But now everyone in this room does, as if they didn't already. He narrows his eyes, not actually wanting to expose Valjean further by continuing this in front of everyone else, but then Joly seems to turn speculative. Only then does it occur to him that there are other things Joly has seen, and said, and prescribed, and he can feel the blood draining from his face.

He shuts up. He is not going to expose himself either, and now he is preoccupied with what this idiot might have blabbed to his little friends.

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel notices the way Javert pales, and falls silent, and combines it with what he knows of Joly and feels the first outlines of a realization.

...And also definite confirmation that Javert doesn't even know what a wretchedly bad actor he is.

But all Bahorel allows to show is minor irritation. "Joly's said nothing. He treats the rest of us as spies when it comes to his precious Infirmary." How very dare you, Joly. Bahorel is visibly offended. Treachery. Etc. "But gossip says plenty. If you were the grand spy you claim to be, you wouldn't marvel that people can know what they didn't see. Even here at Milliways, good Madame Hearsay is a magician. A room full of people seeing a man who needs two other to carry him--why, that is a stage for her. That any patron passing by for an eye-blink can understand through her offices what you cannot gather firsthand--that should hardly surprise you anymore." ...Wait, is that insult too complicated? Well, Bahorel can throw out more if he needs to. Javert distracted and angry and snapping is much more potentially useful than Javert sitting silent, if no more pleasant.

[never_shall_yield]

'I have never claimed any such thing.'

Which is true. His reputation did all the work in that regard, at least as an agent of the police. It may amuse them to think he was bad at his job, but more fool them. Spying is another matter, but he is not in the frame of mind to explain the distinction.

'And if you were half as clever as you seem to think yourself, you would know there is a difference between gossip, and confirmation from a doctor.'

He is more shaken than he would like to be in front of this rabble. He tells himself it does not matter what they know of him; that a celled man deserves no hiding place, even in front of those he despises. Especially not in front of them. So, very well. If they know, they know. He will bear it.

[wings_of_a_swan]

Combeferre is mildly repentant for discomfiting Joly, and wholly unrepentant for drawing emotion from the spy. If Javert wishes to benefit from medicine and progress, very well, that's what they're for; but he should not be permitted to hide from the fact that he's done so. And Combeferre has betrayed no confidential information. Javert simply chose to take his general statement personally, though Combeferre will accept responsibility for describing an anonymous patient in such a way as to upset Javert.

"Joly's confirmed nothing," he says, still mild, before turning back to interplanetary government. "It was a complicated solution. It ended with each planet having to decide, according to its own procedures, which of its languages it wished to make official. This of course made the conflict more local. There was much debate about national identity, and planetary identity, and the relationship between the two."

Combeferre doesn't respond to Javert's comments about them being unable to affect governments. He certainly doesn't wish to call Javert's attention to the ways in which they can and will affect the French government, especially now that Marius Pontmercy has found Milliways.

[pro_patria_mortuus]

"Of course, that's as it should be. Such questions can only be decided by the citizenry of a place, in discussion with each other. There's no way but by the general will."

Not only no just way -- that's true of any question of policy, that it's injustice if it's not decided by the general will or representatives accountable to that -- but literally no way, for something as personal as the identity of that citizenry.

But that they had the wisdom to see that, and to set policy thereby, that's as it should be. That matters enormously, even for a far-off unreachable future of a world that may or may not be their own.

(Especially for the future of a world that might well be their own.)

[never_shall_yield]

Javert just glares at Combeferre, and shakes his head. Betrayed nothing? He would say that.

He would also point out that he has never willingly availed himself of the bar's medical knowledge, people just push it on him when he is no state to refuse. If they had let him die when he first came in, none of them would have to be enduring this.

'Oh yes,' he mutters, darkly. 'Ask a million people their ideas, and you are sure to find a way to please every one of them.'

[vive_lavenir]

Jehan, ignoring the spy's disgruntled mutterings, lies down on the bed, setting Marguerite down on his chest.

He makes faces and sings Hamilton at her until he falls asleep for some time. He doesn't know how long he sleeps for, but when he wakes up, things appear much the same. Enjolras is still awake and still stoically resigned. The spy--well, Jehan turns his thoughts from him as fast as possible. Combeferre has slumped over in a deep sleep on Enjolras's other side, and Bahorel and Joly are enthusiastically distracting Enjolras with talk of Mme Ysalwen's world.

Jehan yawns, and stretches, knocking Marguerite off his arm. "Sorry," he says to her. To the others, he says, "Have we had any luck in finding a key?"

[never_shall_yield]

Javert was never about to fall asleep surrounded by this lot, but he has been wishing he could for a long time now. In some way or other, they just Never. Shut. Up.

He has met Yswalen and does not even particularly dislike her, but that does not mean he want to listen to their endless chatter about her, or her world.

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Oh, they're not talking about her. Her world, yes, as it's come up in the books they've read, and in other company they'd talk about what she's said and done too, but you don't name individuals in front of police spies. Especially not individuals who have expressed a commitment to fighting oppression and injustice. (But really, not anyone. Generalities and historical trends it is!)

Enjolras would rather like to fall asleep too, but Joly and Bahorel are an effectively interesting distraction. And he, too, was never going to fall asleep in Javert's company.

At least Combeferre, who listed gradually in his sleep until he was slumped half on Enjolras's shoulder, has provided a far more welcome way to be stuck on a couch than the handcuffed arm which is equally keeping Enjolras trapped sitting.

At Prouvaire's question, he glances over with a rueful grimace. He doesn't need to say, nothing yet; he's still here, next to Javert, and nobody is bursting with eager news.

[vive_lavenir]

Jehan makes an answering sympathetic grimace at Enjolras. He could obviously see the handcuff situation persisted, but he'd hoped for a clue or a lead, at least. Alas.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert rolls his eyes in Jehan's general direction, because of all the people this is terrible for, he is clearly the worst off. At least the rest of them have each other to talk to.

Simply for something to do, he pulls his snuffbox out of his pocket with his free hand, and sets about tapping a little out on to his thumb. This requires both hands, but he does not, naturally, enquire of Enjolras whether he minds cooperating.

[pro_patria_mortuus]

Yes, of course he does not.

At least he's not tapping it out onto the thumb of the handcuffed hand. Enjolras's exasperation is well-worn by now, much like Javert's; he fists that hand to keep it out of the way, and cooperates enough to keep his hand from being tugged about, while paying as little attention to the spy's proceedings as possible.

Anyway, talking about the historical roots and injustices of the Tevinter Imperium is much more interesting.

[never_shall_yield]

He takes the snuff. He is not really pleased enough with himself to deserve it, but on the other hand, he has not lost his mind or spoken out of turn yet, and that is reason enough to have earned it.

His heel starts banging on the floor. It is an effort to stop it. But he is not made for sitting for hours on end, and avoiding looking at the picture makes his neck hurt. This room is awful and stuffy with all these people in it, and he is concerned about his horses. He does not trust the smiling one to have done the job properly.

'Your friend,' he blurts, after a few more minutes.

'Where is he? Courfeyrac. I want the keys to my stables back.'

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel smiles and tosses a cushion over to Jehan with his free arm. " Oh, no doubt Courfeyrac's long since absconded with all the horses, and led them into sin and vice. I expect they're overthrowing the King of the Cats even now." It's horses, Javert. They're in a closed little island. What do you think Courfeyrac's going to do with them?

Joly smiles at Prouvaire too, from the armchair where he and Bossuet managed to fold themslves together in a relatively comfortable arrangement. "I'm afraid it hasn't been that long." Sorry, Prouvaire, you haven't managed to sleep through the ordeal. "-- The sandwiches came." There's still a full plate pointedly set down near Javert, along with a full glass of wine, and a few empty plates scattered around next to their friends.

[le_centre]

Courfeyrac turns up not much later, grinning as usual, and smelling of straw and fresh air.

'Those are fine animals you have,' he says in Javert's direction, helping himself to a couple of sandwiches off the one full plate left.

'Hullo, are we all asleep? I found some people handcuffed outside, and we talked a while. They'd heard there was a key too, so I went looking but couldn't find a thing. And I lost my new hat! I had to go back to the stable, and the younger horse had chewed it.'

It has been a very trying evening. He flings himself into a chair, takes the glass of wine off the table, and looks around.

'What are we talking about?'

There's always a conversation about something going on.

[pro_patria_mortuus]

"The Tevinter Imperium," Enjolras answers, probably to Javert's dismay. "In its later days. Joly had some thoughts on this lyrium of theirs, and of course the great question is how its citizens might overcome their divisions --"

Possibly eventually he'll notice the lost hat. But probably not. (In any case, he won't care, and wouldn't even if Courfeyrac were better at retaining his accessories.)

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel cares about your lost hat, Courfeyrac! He winces in sympathy at the sad tale of its demise. When Enjolras pauses for a moment in his discussion of the Imperium, Bahorel interjects. "If Madame Bar won't give you a new one, I have a spare that should fit you well enough; it's got a burgundy tone to it, you know,so I haven't worn it yet." Black, only true black, since Halloween. "But it'll suit your eyes. --Ah, good, clean the plate! Joly's been intent on keeping our delightful guest in trim, but you see, he's too nervouse, he fears our good hostess, he won't touch it." In short: cluck-cluck-cluck chiiiickeeeen.

Joly, occupied with Enjolras' last comment about the Laetan, says nothing. But he does kick Bahorel lightly in the shin, because that's what one does, after all.

[le_centre]

Courfeyrac raises his eyebrows.

'Oh, were these yours? My apologies.'

He does not sound sorry. Javert simply sets his jaw at Bahorel's nonsense, and ignores it utterly. But he does fix his glare on Courfeyrac.

'Where are my keys?'

'They are here. I have not stolen them.'

He did think about making copies. Whether he did or not...wellll, he's not telling. The originals are returned with a smile, and Javert even offers a curt nod of thanks.

'I should be glad of your hat Bahorel, thank you. Unless there is some artistic merit in wandering around with the marks of horse teeth and grass slime on my head?'

Even if there is, he thinks he would prefer fashionable and new, thank you very much.

Also, sorry Enjolras. He will also think seriously about serious matters (serious in different ways), once he has refreshed himself a little.

[pro_patria_mortuus]

That's fine! Enjolras can keep chatting with Joly while Courfeyrac and Bahorel talk fashion and tease the spy simultaneously.

Javert is the only one here not extremely well accustomed to having three or four conversations juggled back and forth in the same room, after all.