World: Paris
Scene: Corinth, apparently. A late night in 1829. Why, in my day, we only had three players, and we had to play two characters at once in any given scene! In the snow! Barefoot! *brandishes cane*
Players: Grantaire, Enjolras = Abby; Jaden = SJ
Grantaire saunters in, remarkably steady on his feet, for Grantaire, but looking tired.
Jaden is seated at a table near the window, a glass of wine in hand, and a bottle at his table. He glances towards the door, and offers a smile.
Grantaire catches one of the ever-present waitress-girls by the shoulder. "Here, hello, my dear, my lovely, is Himself about?"
Jaden tilts his head as he watches the fellow, a faint pout crossing his lips as his smile is ignored.
Chowder sighs. "It's two in the morning. He's gone home." She frees herself and goes back to her work.
Grantaire glances ceilingward. "Since when," he demands, "do saviors of their country have to sleep?"
Jaden tilts his head the other way, then offers, "Everyone has to sleep."
Grantaire seems to notice the stranger for the first time. He snorts, crossing to join him uninvited. "I know that. You know that. Does he know that? Not the last I knew. Evening," he adds as an afterthought.
Jaden blinks up at him a moment, then ventures, "Perhaps it was just he stayed up so much, because he didn't know it, that he was so tired, he had to know it tonight?"
Grantaire squints at him as he eases into a chair. "...Something like that. God knows I tell him to take better care," he goes on, growing lugubrious, "but does he listen to me, no, heaven forbid he should listen to me, what do I know."
The girls roll their eyes, casting rueful looks of sympathy at Jaden.
Jaden glances at the girls, then back to Grantaire, "Is this your brother?" he questions.
Grantaire pauses. Blinks. "Is what who?"
Jaden blinks as well. "The fellow you're going on about."
It takes him a moment. Then his face clears. "Ah." He laughs shortly. "No, no, no. Not anymore," he adds cryptically. "Merely a friend of mine who keeps forgetting he is only human. Not that I blame him."
Jaden looks rather befuddled now, blinking at his tablemate. "Not anymore? All right... Oh, my name is Jaden, by the by."
Grantaire squints again, harder, and tries it over. "Good heavens. Well, pleased to meet you anyway."
Jaden grins a bit, and says again for his benifit. "Jaden. And you are?"
Grantaire shakes his head and mutters something. Then: "Grantaire," briefly, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.
Jaden tries the name out, managing it passably. "A pleasure to meet you, good sir." He tilts his head again. "You look like you should be in bed yourself."
Grantaire chuckles wryly. "Nothing is wrong with me that mere sleep will cure," he pronounces. And pauses as something dawns on him. "And for that matter, what about yourself? Or don't Englishmen sleep either?"
Jaden bites his lower lip briefly. "I just arrived here, you see, and haven't gotten a bed yet." He takes a sip from his wine glass, then motions to the bottle. "Would you like a glass?"
Grantaire gives him a look of owlish mischief. "I would. But don't let these ladies hear you say that. They all insist on looking after my health, about which I do not give a flying [expletive], and so I must be circumspect. At least at this hour."
Jaden glances at the girls again, blinks, then looks back to him. "Oh. Sorry, then."
Grantaire rubs his temples wearily. "It grows tiring, you know, being the voice of reason."
Jaden nods at that, giving him an odd look. "I can imgaine. I try never to be reasonable." He grins impishly.
Grantaire snorts. "Someone's got to do it. And none of the rest of them are inclined to. It falls to me, as usual, to whom no one listens even when I am not being reasonable."
Jaden offers another smile. "I'm listening to you," he points out.
Grantaire heaves a sigh. "Only because you don't know any better." He studies his hands a moment. "So what brings you here?"
Jaden questions, "Are you always so bloody down?" He then blinks, and says, "I didn't want to get married."
Grantaire nods sagely. "Wise."
Jaden gives a faint shudder. "She was awful. All she did was cling to my arm and simper, and I think she bathed in rose perfume."
Grantaire grimaces. "They're all like that, I fear."
Jaden nods. "I don't want anything to do with any of them."
Grantaire adds, cheering, "Except for our beloved girls, here, for whom rose perfume would do nothing at all, and who know it. --Wise," he says again, and nods.
Fricassee looks pained.
The door swings open, and in steps a fair-haired young man, much too good-looking and with an air of severity. This last, however, seems dampened. Without glancing at anyone he crosses to a table on the other side of the room and sinks into a seat, burying his face in his hands.
Jaden's gaze follows the new arrival, his eyes widening somewhat, then blinking at the defeated posture. "Are you all right?" he calls over.
Grantaire looks over as well, and his face changes.
The newcomer starts, looking up with a frown, which turns to a scowl as he notes Grantaire. He nods curtly to Jaden, and glances away again.
Grantaire's tone is gentler than it has been hitherto. "Marcelin?"
Jaden glances between the men, and falls silent for the moment.
"Let me alone," shortly.
Jaden's brow furrows in worry, even though he doesn't know the man from Adam. "You sure you're all right, mate?"
Marcelin mutters, "Fine. Thank you."
Grantaire sets his jaw. The edge of mockery comes back into his voice. "At least let me introduce you to this gentleman. Monsieur Jaden Something-or-other, or something- or-other Jaden, of England. Marcelin Enjolras. Savior of his country, as I believe I've mentioned."
Jaden blinks at this, then supplies automatically, "Knight. Jaden Knight." He turns his gaze back to Enjolras, brow furrowed. "Savior of the country?"
Enjolras begins savagely, "Damn it, Grantaire. I am in no mood--" and then, with tight control: "Ignore him, monsieur. When he is drunk he fancies himself a wit. Which is always."
Grantaire protests rather plaintively, "I haven't been drunk for hours."
Jaden looks between the men again, wondering what he's gotten into. "Does the country need saving, though?"
Enjolras colors hotly, and bites back a retort, falling silent to glare out the window.
Grantaire grins lazily. Too much so. "Ah, she always does, this poor old country. Never a lack of champions, though. Is there, Marcelin, my friend?"
Jaden tilts his head at this, still looking between the men, even though his gaze tends to linger a bit more on Enjolras. "Why does she need saving?"
Enjolras grits his teeth, doggedly ignoring them both.
Grantaire waves a hand. "Why does she ever! --Ah, there, you can tell he's tired. It takes a good deal to make him miss an opportunity for a lecture." The biting note is still in his voice, though his eyes, fixed on Enjolras, are strangely soft.
Jaden looks back to Enjolras, and says softly, "I'm sorry if my questions gave offense."
"Grantaire," says Enjolras softly and precisely, "shut up and go away." He shakes his head to Jaden, looking suddenly tired. "Come back tomorrow, monsieur, if you truly want to know the answers. Tonight I have no heart for it."
Grantaire shuts up. Promptly.
Jaden nods, a bit befuddled. "Just tired?" he ventures. "You're certain you are all right?"
Enjolras spares him another curt nod. "Quite. Thank you." He pushes to his feet. "If you will excuse me."
Jaden nods. "Good evening. A pleasure to have met you."
Grantaire watches in perfect silence.
Enjolras nods once more, and makes his way out.
Jaden's eyes follow the man, and he continues to gaze at the doorway a long moment.
Grantaire regards him wryly. Presently he says in an equally wry tone, "He does have that effect."
Jaden blinks and turns his gaze from the door. "What effect?" He blushes faintly.
Grantaire's mouth twists in amusement. "Did that to me when I first met him, and I was only fourteen." He shrugs, leaning back in his chair again.
Jaden reaches to fiddle with his wine glass. "Well. He is very handsome, and so intent."
Grantaire darts a remarkably sharp-eyed look up at him. "Mmm. He is that." He leans forward again, elbows resting on the table, attempting to catch the other's eye. "A word of advice?"
Jaden lifts his gaze from the glass to meet his eyes. "Yes?"
Grantaire says quietly and distinctly, "Don't break your heart." With which he straightens, preparing to stand.
Jaden flushes more, and lowers his eyes. "I'll be sure not to," he murmurs.
Grantaire rakes a hand through his hair, and manages to grin. "Evening to you, monsieur. They let rooms here, by the by. Though I can't answer for their cleanliness. The proprietress is a joy forever but not much with a broom." He bows slightly, aims a swat at the luckless Chowder's backside, and heads for the door.
Jaden chuckles despite himself and calls, "Evening. Was a pleasure to meet you."
Grantaire murmurs, "Indeed," as he slips out.