quatre: they will put away the sword

[untamedantinous]

There are a number of kitchens to be found in the mansion, as most people know. Enjolras is in one of them, flour speckling his flannel shirt and black jeans. There is a recipe book open on the counter near him, open to a page on baguettes. The young man in question is currently absorbed in kneading some dough: once again, something new to concentrate on. (Yes, he had known that Combeferre and Courfeyrac were only here for a day, but that does not really make it much better.) So, inspired by Laertes -- and, perhaps, the underwhelming boeuf bourguignon the mansion had provided the other day -- he is attempting a French classic. Perhaps a homemade baguette will taste better than mansion-provided food.

Comments

[untamedantinous]

“Of course I am not perfect,” earnestly. “I’ve killed men. Men that were no further apart from me than you and I are just now.” He hesitates a moment, and goes for his until-now abandoned coffee, sipping at it as he considers his next words. “You missed it,” he continues carefully. “But it was necessary at the time.”

[futaille]

"I know you had," he says, tone several shades more serious than is usual for him. In fact, it's comparable to what it was in their brief exchange before he passed out at the Corinthe. "I was probably the only one who found a way to avoid that, and that's hardly to my credit."

[untamedantinous]

"--Not the only one," quietly. "Though theirs was unintentional." He takes another quick sip of coffee to fortify himself. "Bahorel was the first to fall, before the fighting had even properly started. He would be disappointed to know he missed the bulk of it, I think," with a rueful smile. "And Prouvaire, he was taken prisoner. We were going to trade him for a police spy, but --it was already too late."

[futaille]

Grantaire's answering smile is a bit bittersweet itself. "Of course Bahorel was the first to fall. He'd probably consider it an honor. Jehan... he shouldn't have had to be alone."

[untamedantinous]

"You are right." His voice turns a little brusque, here --but it is mostly aimed at himself, not Grantaire. "He was..very brave. Got caught up in the first attack, in the confusion when Pontmercy arrived."

[futaille]

He nods. "Of course he was." He reaches over and rests a hand on Enjolras's shoulder.

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras sighs a little and reaches up to clasp his hand briefly. "I am sorry," he says quietly. "I think this is the first time we've spoken of the barricades; it is ...difficult."

[futaille]

Grantaire's hand doesn't move. "Harder for you, I'd figure. I saw little and did less. But I knew them too, and I'll remember them alongside you."

[untamedantinous]

Neither does Enjolras'. "That is all I can ask," he replies, attempting to summon up a smile. It doesn't quite work. "They need not have died for my sake. I know it was not for me, but -- it does feel like it at times."

[futaille]

Grantaire shakes his head, squeezing Enjolras's shoulder slightly. "They followed you because they believed in the same things you did. They didn't die for your sake, they died along with you, for France's sake."

[untamedantinous]

"You didn't." He turns to look at Grantaire then, a little uncertain, but clear in his purpose all the same. "At least, not for France's sake. I was not afraid of dying alone. I expected it, in fact. I have said it before, but I...ah. Thank you. If I needed to die --at least I had someone who cares for me at my side." His eyes are still on Grantaire's, watching him cautiously. It is not often -- hardly at all that he unburdens himself thus to Grantaire, and so he is not entirely certain where to go from here.

[futaille]

He meets Enjolras's eyes, not averting his gaze. "I couldn't not. I knew where it would likely end, and that's why I stayed." He'd been a Cassandra soaked in alcohol, in truth. "I'm only grateful you permitted it." By that he means both that he stayed and... the obvious.

[untamedantinous]

He smiles, then -- a very similar to the smile he gave Grantaire on that day, and nods. "I knew you weren't entirely hopeless," he says, in an effort to lighten up the conversation. "I may have said something to that effect before that, but -- " A shrug. "There was not time for many things, then."

[futaille]

"I know," he says with a smile of his own. "I'm only mostly hopeless anyway."

[untamedantinous]

"Especially mostly hopeless in fencing," almost teasing, that smile turning a little fond. "We should practice again, sometime."

[futaille]

"If you wish it. I'll point out, though, that there are several other pastimes available here." Have a slightly impish grin, Enjolras. "And on account of your sensibilities, I won't even mention billiards among them."

[untamedantinous]

"Thank you," primly, and he waves at the covered dough. "Yes, I know there are, I am doing one of them right now, if you recall. What else did you have in mind?"

[futaille]

"I found an entertaining game called pinball. Or if you insist on more physical activity, we could probably fashion up a strange variant of tennis in lieu of an actual court. I think I saw some racquets on a shelf in the game room."

[untamedantinous]

"Well, it will have to wait until I can put this in the oven and such, I think perhaps it may be almost ready. It should have doubled in size, in theory."

[futaille]

"I wasn't expecting right this second. You'd be surprised at how patient I can be."

[untamedantinous]

"At least one of us can be," with a playful sort of smile, and he leans to check the recipe. "--Ah, I was mistaken anyway, there is another rise after this one."

[futaille]

Grantaire looks incredibly amused. "Ah yes. Sometimes there needs to be several uprisings before the desired results."

[untamedantinous]

"Mm." He lifts an eyebrow. "Would the oven, then, be Louis-Phillipe, in this case?"

[futaille]

"That depends on if you see him as a necessary step in the recipe."

[untamedantinous]

"I mean, he did put an end to the uprisings." He taps his chin, looking amused. "I shouldn't like to eat an unbaked baguette. But I also shouldn't like to subject my dough to Louis-Phillipe, so perhaps he is not the oven."