1828

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

So. Bahorel had advised--Staub's finest and tightest, a notion that had met Bossuet's unvoiced support. And then word had come that Musichetta, through unknowable feminine channels, had been returned to a state of--well, call it clemency. All of this when Lesgle was conveniently free of classes, so it was no trouble at all to murmur something to Joly about longing for the noble sights of Meaux and vanish for a few days, and then to pass another day or two with Grantaire, with Bahorel, with a remarkable poet or perhaps visionary he'd met at Bahorel's place--

One week, he thinks, for Joly and Musichetta to get reacquainted, and another week for them to remember why they keep their own rooms, and then say another day or two for good measure.

He manages to be arriving at the Musain just as Joly is leaving, and gives him a quick, friendly, searching look. "On your way home?"


((After this.))

Comments

[merryeccentricities]

Joly is already in an excellent mood, but he still brightens immediately. "To dinner, first, I thought-- you're not spoken for tonight, are you? I haven't seen you in days." Or nights, for that matter. Joly takes Bossuet's arm without really waiting for an answer; if Lesgle is spending his nights somewhere interesting , he'll surely speak up about it, anyway, and if he wasn't free for dinner at least he wouldn't be at the Musain.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Spoken for? Heavens, no! I've been with Grantaire and with Bahorel and Bahorel's collection, so I've been spoken at, to, over, under, and around--but you're the only person speaking for me."

Lesgle had been in an uncertain mood, more uncertain than he'd realized until Joly's evident happiness to see him set off an answering spark. He presses his hand to Joly's, on his arm.

[merryeccentricities]

Joly laughs, possibly more than the joke deserves, but everything is delightful right now. "Then we will go to Mére Léon's , and get some decent wine, and you can share what you have learned from your fellow orators. And--well, you know my news! Isn't the weather fine this spring? There are fewer cases of fever than last year this time, I am sure of it." He tucks his cane under his arm, letting Bossuet's step balance his own sometimes wandering gait, humming a tune from the opera last week without really thinking of it.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle recognizes the tune, having been at the opera last week himself, and has to laugh suddenly from the sheer absurdity of not having seen Joly all this time. He'd let himself worry that things might not turn out all right: and since when does he do that? If he had to diagnose himself--

"The weather is as fine as it can manage, I suppose, and I haven't kept track of the fevers but I haven't had so much as a sniffle lately. But you, Jolllly, you show all the symptoms of a happy love-affair."

--if he had to diagnose himself, well.

[merryeccentricities]

Joly grins. "No professor would give you credit for that diagnosis. You were given the answer, I'm sure. But yes, very well; I am afflicted, I have completely succumbed, I expect it is a permanent condition." Maybe he's being a little ridiculous, but he can't be very bothered about it.

But he does pull back a little, frowning just slightly, to look up at Bossuet. "You aren't planning to move out for good now, are you? That wouldn't-- well, you're not, are you?"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Oh--well--you know me, I'm not much of a planner."

This is not a fully honest answer, barely an answer at all, and he knows it. "That is--I thought I'd see what suited you. And Mamselle You Know Who I Mean, as Bahorel would put it. --Let's get that wine, shall we?"

[merryeccentricities]

Joly's frown deepens. "You know Musichetta's name perfectly well. And -- oh, the good table is free!" The one that doesn't wobble! Getting to the café and the right table is briefly distracting race.

But only briefly. "--And you know Musichetta knows we share rooms. She doesn't plan to move in, if that's what you mean. I mean-- not soon. Maybe not while I'm a student. She, ah. Has objections to some of my study supplies." And he has to admit anatomy practice sometimes can be a little intrusive in a home.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle whistles silently. Not moving in soon, not while Joly's a student, sounds remarkably like moving in some day. That is serious!

But then he already knew it was serious.

"Musichetta is a woman of excellent good sense and no little sensibility, and if she doesn't care for an extra leg or hand in the room she may have a fair point. --Yes. Musichetta knows we share rooms. But it struck me, you know, that she might not altogether care for that. Which might also be a fair point."

...it occurs to Bossuet, not for the first time, that there's no very good way to ask so do you know that I slept with your mistress, and while we're on the subject do you know how she might feel about our own state of affairs, and what's the best way to continue all of the above.

[merryeccentricities]

"Why-- she has no objections to you, you know. I mean, I know the two of you had some awkwardness in the past--you don't still mind about that, surely? -- and of course she thinks you are a bit impossible sometimes, because you are--" Joly hooks his foot briefly around Bossuet's ankle as he says it, so as to not be misunderstood, "--but she understands that we, well. Share rooms."

Joly frowns a little. "I haven't. Ah. Mentioned any other sort of living arrangements, because, well. It rather involves you, too, you know."Musichetta has almost certainly made guesses-- but then that was before things between the two of them had been quite so intentional.

Hmm.

"I don't-- I don't want to keep things like that from her. I won't. But then I don't even know what there is to say. You've been gone and I couldn't ask and-- well, it does rather matter what you think, you know.I can't really speak for you. Not about--living arrangements."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle wraps his other foot around Joly's in a counter-attack that only goes a small way to steady the wobbliness in his chest.

The dinnertime racket of Mère Léon's is equivalent to privacy. At the table next to them a quartet of medical students seem to be discussing an amputation that had been repeated twice so far; they're putting on a brave face of carelessness as they put odds to the patient's survival.

"Well--in fact--hmm, as it turns out--well, I've more or less spoken for myself on that point. With Musichetta. In fact, ah, hmm. That was after she and I--" It had really better be said. "--You did know that, didn't you? There's a certain amount of, of, wondering who knows what, I observe, and it is coming to a point of farce. Now, the best farces end with everyone in bed, but--"

[merryeccentricities]

Bossuet is babbling. That's usually Joly's territory, and Bossuet is no good at it at all, and even paying very careful attention it takes Joly a moment to decipher what's being said.

"You spoke with Musichetta about our living arrangements? What did you s--oh." Oh. He sits back, a little perplexed, and not at all sure what else. "No. No I didn't.Uh. When--?"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Erm."

He fixes his gaze on the wine bottle.

"Well. It was just before you went down to Avignon. Your brother showed up, if you recall, to clear out any disreputable elements before your father arrived--well, he didn't say so in so many words, your brother is an excellent fellow, I quite like him, and it was simply good planning on his part, I don't disagree with him in the slightest, but--one felt a bit like a loose end that needed tying up--"

He fixes his gaze on the other wine bottle, which isn't helping. "I was sure I'd told you about it." Then again, he isn't exactly succeeding in telling Joly about it now.

[merryeccentricities]

Joly feels absolutely sure that there's a certain sort of response he's supposed to have, here. It's just not a response he's actually having at all. Oh, well; he knows perfectly well his systems are irregular, there's no point in him trying to force a standard response.

He compromises; he kicks Bossuet lightly under the table. "You didn't! Of all the times to become quiet-!" But he's smiling.

And then he's grinning, and then he's giggling. "Oh no, oh, poor Musichetta. I owe her another dozen apologies at least--and you!" he makes a swatting motion in Bossuet's direction. And then he has to put his head in his hands and let himself laugh for a few moments. "And I was worried--!"

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"I'm sure I said something!" He's...almost always saying something.

But Joly is kicking him, which is a good sign, and kicking progresses to grinning and swatting and then putting his head on the table and laughing.

After a few moments of this, Lesgle reaches over and refills Joly's glass of wine and nudges Joly's elbow with it hopefully. "And then with Musichetta vanishing, you know, I thought I might have--might have ruined everything--I'm fairly sure I'm the one who should be apologizing, Joly. In fact I am apologizing. Right now."

[merryeccentricities]

Joly looks up, still smiling, and lifts the glass. He takes a drink before saying anything. "Hmm, you should. For not telling me before. I'm glad to know before the three of us have any sort of conversation on the matter, of course, but it would have been useful to know before-!"

He takes another drink, thinking. "For the rest, well, I suppose I'd feel a bit of hypocrite getting offended about the two of you doing-- what I'm doing, really." He frowns again. "Except that I suppose I still don't know what you're doing. Or, I mean. What you're wanting to do. Are you--?" He's not sure what to ask. He smiles, and shrugs, and takes another drink.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Bossuet clears his throat. "I apologize," he says distinctly, "for sleeping with your mistress and not telling you about it sooner." One of the medical students over at the next table, a bit green around the gills, happens to look over and hastily looks away again.

Lesgle takes a moment to make sure his own glass is well-filled. He clears his throat again and stares into the wine. "The English have an expression, that one might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. A sound principle, if one's world is so barbaric as to hang people for ovine theft! The sheep is a foolish creature, anyway, and a man ought to be thanked for taking it out of the picture--"

Wait, no, that's a digression. "--I mean to say--there's not a good way of saying that I'd like to go home with you and go on as usual and also see if Musichetta might like now and then to--"

He gulps down the wine and hastily fills up again. "Actually I'd like very much to see you happy," he says to the inside of his glass. "I thought I might have spoiled that. But saying so sounds so much like a demand: be happy."

It's uncomfortable, realizing that you wouldn't much sympathize with your own character if everything were a play. Even the sort of farce where everyone does end up in bed and no one minds in the slightest.

[merryeccentricities]

Joly can't help laughing. "Yes, you dread tyrant, how dare you." Oh, Hell. Bossuet really does look miserable. He taps his foot against Lesgle's. "We're a Republic between us, the same edicts must apply to every man; I will support the decree only if you follow it yourself."

"Anyway, Musichetta's no sheep-- can you imagine the look on her face if we told her you had made up her mind for her?" He tries for a severe look as he says it, and only ends up laughing again. "Obviously I can't swear for what she'll say. But we'll talk to her? Soon? Both of us, together, so we can all avoid this sort of nonsense happening again? You and I are agreed, I think; if we all can be, well--." Joly's fairly sure it's not impossible, at least.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Musichetta is definitely not a sheep." He's about to expand on her remarkable qualities, then hesitates. The things one says about one's own mistress and things one says about someone else's mistress are rather different. Then there's the things one says in circumstances of amicable infidelity, or the things one says to dispense with any notion of a duel.

None of these formulae have anything to do with--with--sincere affection, call it, if any other term is too alarming.

"...but are you quite sure we all three of us need to have a conversation? Couldn't we just raise our eyebrows meaningfully at one another and make assumptions?" He's only three-quarters joking.

[merryeccentricities]

Joly's laugh is loud enough to be heard even against the regular din of the café. "It would be an interesting experiment to watch! Let's see, how does that translate--"

He tries to arrange his eyebrows into an appropriate overture for the topic. He's fairly sure he just looks like he's going to sneeze.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Joly does look like he's going to sneeze, yes, and it's intensely appealing. This sincere affection business is a problem.

Lesgle raises his eyebrows back in answer--and then raises them further when the medical student at the other table looks around again. Hey, just because they happen to be having the most interesting conversation in the café...

"If there's any wine left, we could take it home with us," is all he says aloud.

[merryeccentricities]

Joly's eyebrows do rise at that. It would be nice to think they were doing so in a knowing way, but then the laughing would still probably spoil the effect. But yes, it's probably not a bad idea. It's easy enough to get their dinners wrapped to take with them, and they're safely back at the apartment when a rumble of distant thunder proves they were indeed wise to make their early escape.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Joly wouldn't be at all mistaken in giving Lesgle a knowing look; Lesgle's plans are not purely conversational. But he's also genuinely just happy to be back at Joly's rooms.

He has a portfolio with him, into which he's managed to store a badly-translated German novel, the draft of a comic play, a cleanish shirt and cravat, and shaving gear; the portfolio fits tidily under the chaise-longue as usual, and soon Lesgle is working on removing his boots.

"Joly--" Ah, there's one off. He settles it next to an articulated chicken skeleton. "--These are the pleasantest rooms in Paris. I hope you know that."

[merryeccentricities]

At the moment, Joly is inclined to agree. "They do have some very nice lighting, and there's not much mold this year. And I believe the fellow downstairs has given up the flute, which I consider a personal favor, and --oh! I believe one of our cats is expecting. At any rate the rodent population around the apartment seems much reduced." This is probably not the right conversation to be having when handing over dinner, but then he's in understanding company.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Ah, indeed?" He takes the dinner and sets it down on the table, moving aside some newspaper sections. "Which one?" It's never entirely clear to Bossuet which cats Joly considers part of the household, and which ones are merely occasional visitors. Really he ought to pay better attention, he thinks.

Oof, there goes the other boot. "I would have brought a bit of fish if I'd known."

[merryeccentricities]

"Ah, the one you named, I can't remember what, with the little brown socks and the bent ear? And that very odd mew? You can always bring her some fish later. I mean-- you'll be staying here a while anyway.Won't you?" he adds, as it occurs to him that Bossuet still hasn't actually said so.

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"Ah! The divine Marie Taglioni! I wonder who among the gentleman callers is to be congratulated... Hey? Oh! Well--yes, I was thinking--that is to say, I was hoping I could impose--"

Eyebrows? He's staying, right? He's got his boots off and he's wiggling his toes and dinner is on the table and Marie Taglioni is in the family way, and Joly is smiling, and-- Lesgle reaches over and tugs on Joly's hand, pulling him a little closer. "I was hoping to stay. If an arrangement can be made that suits everyone."

[merryeccentricities]

Joly snorts at impose and leans over cheefully. "Well, fair enough, exams are coming up and I'm expecting to bring in more examples soon, so you may not want to be here for that. But I would rather you were, you know. It's much easier to study when you are."

... Which doesn't make any sense, because Lesgle is in every way distracting, but it's true. Hmm. "I wonder if anyone's studied that sort of thing, you know? The focusing power of distractions. Combeferre would know, I'll ask him if he's heard of any relevant papers. I haven't seen him too much lately either, I assume he's studying, though I don't know what he has left to study for, I'm sure he knows the material better than the teachers... ah!this cup has a crack."
He should be probably be perturbed about the spill, but it's hardly going to be the last time he'll have wine splashed on his coat. "I'm taking yours, you may steal it back again next."

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

Lesgle is already handing the glass over. "Would it be sentimental to say something about sharing? It would; but I say it anyway. We shall share."

He coughs, and adds, "...And when you publish your first monograph, I trust you'll mention the assistance I've provided you by being here while you study. Nothing grand, just a word or two will suffice to make the partnership clear."

[merryeccentricities]

Joly grins. "Yes, I will give you full credit as my laboratory assistant. We are not an artist's studio, there cannot be a single name taking credit for all the work. Indeed, between the two of us I suspect we will not even manage to hold it down to only two names sharing credit."

Joly's smile turns sentimental with absolutely no hesitation at all. "Or three. -- You know, she was reading some of my old journals last week? She says she has no interest in them at all, but she had some very good ideas about miniaturization. Not like that, I mean of certain technology. Obviously we can't all run our lights on batteries if the batteries are as large as a bathtub! She's very clever."

And Joly is very happy. He kicks his heels against the floor, leans against Bossuet, and settles in to the business of dinner.