"Good evening," he says upon the poet's entrance, offering a little wave. He raises an eyebrow at the distance Jehan places, but decides against saying anything. He presumes Jehan will require the space in any case, to spread his papers to take up as much room as possible, as all the students seem to enjoy doing, or so it seems to him.
"Hallo," he says, keeping his voice down. It's a dead-quiet place when Enjolras' voice doesn't fill it, or his friends' arguments aren't assaulting his ears. He only has a notebook tonight, the edges stained with black ink. He keeps his eyes on the notebook. "Ohh, rather quiet," he remarks, almost to himself.
"Not for long," he says, glancing towards Courfeyrac. "What of Prouvaire, then?" he asks Adrien. "Will he also be forgotten, being third? We remember the second and third kings of France, do we not?" A slight pause. "The second and third partitions of Poland."
(Deleted comment)
"So you say this country, thrice insulted, her second and third disrespects do not count simply because they were not the premier insult? I find them all the more outrageous for it!" He straightens his cap and nods to himself. Politics can come when they rest arrive. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a coin. "As for the wine, if one only gains acclaim for firsts, I may as well continue my record, right?"
(Deleted comment)
His first instinct is to snatch the coin back, but he doesn't. He blinks. "Heads?"
(Deleted comment)
"That was smart," he says mildly, after a pause. He pulls out another coin, balancing this one on his own thumb. "Heads, you climb up and get it. Tails, I do." He flicks the coin at Adrien.
(Deleted comment)
"Cheat," he says, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Wine, then. I'll give you the honor of the first."
(Deleted comment)
"It sounds interesting," he says, arching a skeptical eyebrow. "But as we are not gypsies, deformed bell-ringers or poets, any of us-- well, save Prouvaire-- I think we will need an author a bit more willing to content himself with chronicling the mundane. Though," he adds, "one can always assert we will not be that long. Whether he's right remains to be seen."
(Deleted comment)
"I've not read much poetry," he confesses, "but I'm sure you're right. With whom did you converse about the merits of having a beak?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. |
