(no subject)

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle and Bahorel had parted with an unspoken understanding that they needed some time apart to wash up and eat a decent meal and put on a fresh shirt and not see one another's annoying face after being locked up in the same room for 24 hours. At least, that was Lesgle's understanding. He's just assuming Bahorel feels the same.

Naturally, "some time apart" doesn't have to mean more than a few hours. It's not long before Lesgle's mood is restored by the company of kittens and Joly, and from there it's not long before he and Joly are putting on a pot of coffee (and pulling out a bottle of wine) in preparation for a little Amis meeting.

Comments

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel looks up when the door crashes open and laughs at Grantaire's surprise. "The standard of Bacchanals is much reduced from ones I've known."

He grabs Bossuet by the arm and hauls them both over, shifting his grip midway grab Grantaire's shoulder. "We'll have to throw our own soon, eh? Before everyone settles into dire respectability."

Bahorel is always sentimental. If he happens to express that right now by talking at a dull roar and thumping Grantaire on the back hard enough to rattle bones, that's just how it is.

[merryeccentricities]

Joly's grinning now too, shifting over to make room for Bossuet and Grantaire. "You've missed the aftermath yesterday, and not the party today-- Bahorel and Lesgle can tell you."

[the_obverse]

"Knocking! A thoroughly bourgeois custom; I would think you'd be shamed to support it --"

Grantaire is easily manhandled; he blinks at all of them with bleary, startled eyes, but puts up little resistance at being hauled into the center of the room. Bahorel's thump nearly overturns him, and occasions a token protest as he sways: "Here now, I came with the intention of delivering abuse, not receiving it!"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Stand and deliver, then! Or--may I suggest instead, sitting among friends? We'll give you a meal and a drink, and be very glad for your good company."

He clears his throat and looks away. There's something in his eye. "We have an excellent bottle of brandy, can't imagine where it came from but I'm sure you'd like it."

[le_centre]

'Fie! I believe Enjolras and Bahorel have eaten all the meat and cheese,' (they haven't), 'so only wine and brandy remain. I am sure that is not a good enough meal, but as an apéritif it is unsurpassed. Come seat yourself Grantaire, and I may find a rat wandering the halls,' (if he can be bothered), 'to find us some real food.'

He remains rooted firmly to the bottom of the friendpile, which is absolutely excuse enough for not moving.

[pro_patria_mortuus]

The addition of Grantaire to the group embrace transforms it slightly, from a cluster to a circle; from a more or less unified pile to individuals separate but joined.

Still united.

Enjolras smiled at Grantaire in greeting, small but genuine. The others pull him in with thumps and banter and offers of brandy. Enjolras rests against a friend's shoulder, within the embrace and the presence of friends, drained but -- despite the memory of horrors and the friends still absent, despite the deaths that brought them all here -- something like content.