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

[timebethine]

"Then I'll stop mentioning it, myself, if I do more to keep it before thine eyes than he does."

[untamedantinous]

"I --perhaps it is necessary, though, to have someone check in every so often." There's a wry sort of smile. "Otherwise I am quick to ignore such things, and I know Grantaire will not say anything about it; he never did before."

[timebethine]

Then Laertes lets himself push just a little. "What does it spark in thee, to imagine him kissing thee as I do? Joy? Dread?"

[untamedantinous]

"I don't know," he says quietly. "--Curiosity? Not dread. He does not...I do not think we are close enough for all that, yet."

[timebethine]

"Then perhaps--" but whatever he was going to say, he's cut off by the clamorous ring of the chicken timer. "Ah, that will be the bread."

[untamedantinous]

"--Yes." He sighs a little and pulls himself away from Laertes' embrace. "I think I must turn it over again and wait, or something like that."

[timebethine]

"Ah, it's a bread with two rises?" asks Laertes. He scoops up the timer from where he'd placed it on the printing plate and starts heading back toward the kitchen.

[untamedantinous]

"Yes, and then I think it must rise again after it's shaped. But not as long as the others. They are apparently quite complicated things, baguettes." He follows along, in that case.

[timebethine]

"Before I came here, I lacked a proper appreciation for the work required of bread," Laertes laughs. "Yeast alone hath a fickle temper; either it refuses the rise entirely, or it runs wild if given the least free reign."

[untamedantinous]

"I think I must also put steam in the oven, as well, when it starts baking. Hopefully it will be worth all this trouble." After a few minutes, they've made their way back to the kitchen, and he washes his hands and sets to deflating the bread and turning it over for its second rise.

[timebethine]

"Does it require kneading, before the second rise?" Laertes goes to take a glance at the recipe book.

[untamedantinous]

"No, I do not think so. It just needs to be deflated and turned."

[timebethine]

"We can spend the next rise looking for instructions for working a press," Laertes offers. "Or in any other employment thou wouldst care to practice; I have no other object." He has completely forgotten about the nutbread recipe in his pocket.

[untamedantinous]

"Mm. Have you set a date for your dance yet? I suppose I should practice at some point before that." So has Enjolras, in the excitement of finding the press.

[timebethine]

"Claudius has set a date, but I forget what it is," says Laertes. His eyes are bright and merry. "It's soon enough that we should take our chance, while we have it."

[untamedantinous]

"Very well." He's acting more resigned than he actually is, and it's hard to hide the smile that is threatening to bloom. "Be patient with me, I am not nearly as skilled a partner as Claudius is."

[timebethine]

"To speak plainly, I am not nearly as skilled a partner as Claudius is," Laertes says confidingly. "He is certainly the best of us." Then, cranking the chicken once again, Laertes leads Enjolras off to the practice room.

[untamedantinous]

"I don't know if I believe that, cher, I saw you at the talent show." He follows along, slinging an arm around Laertes' waist.

[timebethine]

"Lead is easier; it needs more strength than skill." Laertes is more than happy to be reeled in, and knocks their shoulders together companionably as they walk.

[untamedantinous]

"I cannot even recall the last dance I went to," pulling him a little closer as they walk. "It was certainly likely before I came to Paris."

[timebethine]

"And thou wert still a boy, not yet grown into thy legs!" He laughs and nuzzles Lucien's shoulder. "Worry not about the fashion of the dances. We'll dance a few from our home courts, and a few new dances at Claudius's urging--but for most of them, it will be enough to take hands with the rest of the party and move in a circle, or to hold a partner in a close embrace and to sway."

[untamedantinous]

"That sounds about my level of capability," he laughs and shakes his head. "But thank you for being willing to practice with me."

[timebethine]

"If thou hast a taste for it, I'll teach thee other dances," Laertes promises. "Little pleases me more than to dance, and to teach." He contemplates the small collection of records that he's moved into the practice room, then chooses one that has the sort of slow pace that will be easy to teach. (And, he admits, one with words that remind him fondly of Sagramore.) There's a slight hiss of the record player, and then the opening drums and piano of 'Truly, Madly, Deeply' begin to play.

"This," says Laertes as he opens his arms, "is a song for swaying."

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras looks dubious, but nods and steps into Laertes' arms. He is a little uncertain of where he should put his hands, and settles for the waist, for now, that seems easiest.

[timebethine]

Laertes twines his hands together at the back of Lucien's neck, letting himself be clasped into the casual frame of the dance. Their hips are close enough to trade heat, their chests only held apart by the straightness of Laertes's arms; he gazes up into Lucien's eyes with a luminous smile, and he slowly starts swaying them to the rhythm.