Feuilly peeks into the back room of the Musain, only to find it empty, save the tables and chairs and the floating dust that the sun, setting in the window, makes visible. Of course, his luck precisely, he thinks. He rushed straight from work in desperation to avoid being late to the meeting, only to err on the wrong side and arrive first of all. It doesn't matter so much, he thinks, taking a seat. He'll just wait for the others to arrive.
"May you never toss coins to decide any matter," he says, glancing at Jehan as well, then up towards the ceiling. If the coin were going to fall, he thinks, it would have already done so. "As for the other matter, we'd never steal from you the honor. Buy the drinks, just so long as there's something on the table before Grantaire arrives."
Jehan keeps his hands outstretched hopefully. There could always be a draft ready to push it down. He started only a little belatedly this time, and asked himself unbelievingly, "There are children up there...?" The second question: was his frequenting a cafe with children in the rafters worse than visiting gravity-defying one? "Oh, there can't be, of course," he says, and laughs. "I'll be pleased to help you both with money," however. He finally looks down.
"Well, if you do need any help, I'd love to do something," he says, and searches the ceiling. There's hair in his eyes, but he dare not try to brush back his hair, lest he take back his hands and the coin suddenly decide to drop and be lost on the floor forever. "Wine and roses is a rather admirable, romantic thing to squander money on, though. It makes a lovely image."
He smiles at Louison without unstretching his neck. "Yes, I think so, too!" he says earnestly to the ceiling. "I wonder why so many customers give her trouble. It's unfair."
"It is naive to speak of fair and unfair," he says, nodding thanks to Louison, then going back to trying not to stare at Prouvaire. At last he give in and frowns at the little poet. "What... is this a strange exercise?" he asks at last.
"Apologies" he says, ducking his head and shaking away the beginnings of a grin. "I don't always find that true, about the... the inverse proportion of a lady's beauty to her kindness. That is," he says, as earnestly as if it were true scientific theory. "Some of the ladies who walk at night look and act like great beasts."
Jehan blushes. "I didn't notice, actually," he says, then backtracks. "Well, I did, but I didn't think... well, that there was much to see. Besides falling coins." He pauses, and finally understands what Feuilly was referring to. He pulls his hands just a little, looking embarrassed. "Oh, no, it's -- it's me trying to..." To catch a coin that could fall from anywhere. "I was just trying to retrive your coin!" he says lamely.
Frowning, he rests his hands, palms up, on the table, as if feeling rain. "It's got to be somewhere," he says logically, though there's a note of doubt in his voice. "I'm sure it'll fall sometime." He looks down, just a little, to smile sheepishly at Feuilly. "That sounds nice," he admits.
"We'll hear it, when it does," he says, offering a little smile in return. "Unless there's a reason for it, I'm sure it would be nicer to share a table than to each be alone at our own. Please, come sit by me, and we will have Adrien pour the first wine."