untamedantinous | open: don't let the wine go to your brains

It shouldn’t be this hard to prepare for a meeting. He’s done it countless times before. However, this time, it somehow is difficult. He’s never really had to set things up at times like this; and he knows as well as anyone else that he is not the best at social niceties. Granted, this meeting is in a much more well-appointed cafe than any he had ever been accustomed to holding space in in Paris. At least they have the benefit of a larger space. Consequently, Enjolras has spent much of the day of the eighth of Menestheus preparing, a little uncertain of how to plan a social gathering that is not immediately centered around planning a revolution. He is trying his best, at least.

Most of the tables and chairs have been pushed a bit more to the center of the room; the couch is arranged off to the opposite side. There are even various pillows scattered about, should anyone choose to sit on the floor. Arranged on a few of the larger tables and the counter there is a modest spread of food: of course, some of Laertes and Galahad’s pastries; but Enjolras has also procured what amounts to a few charcuterie platters: sliced sausages and meats, a selection of (mostly French) cheese, and various sliced loaves of bread and crackers are laid out for perusal, and spreads to go along with them. In an effort to provide multiple options of entertainment, Grantaire has set up a table somewhat near the food, with an assortment of wines and liqueurs. Off to one side, there are a few pots of brewed coffee, cream, sugar, and whatever else anyone might like to add to their beverage of choice. If anyone is drawn to the liquor cabinet, they will find three cups filled with various pieces of paper sitting atop it.

Enjolras himself is lingering on the couch with a glass of wine and some bread. He’s not sure how many people were even informed about this gathering, though he had done his best to advertise. If no one arrives then perhaps he will try again another time; but at least a few in attendance other than himself and Grantaire would certainly be welcome.

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He shoots Ragnelle a grin. "Well, I don't get into lengthy conversations with them, but I can easily admit they do what they do to perfection."

"An oversight, sirrah, they have much to speak on."

"I do not doubt that, but I share a defect with most men in that my ears don't work nearly as well as my mouth does."

"Ay, Men do love talking before all other things."

"Unfortunately true. We have a compulsion to fill the air with nonsense. I at least do have clarity enough to recognize it as nonsense, even if that doesn't dissuade me. But now you have me curious. What do the worms have to say for themselves?"

"How tastes the soil and whether it will rain, and mainly complaints about moles. Practical things."

"That makes perfect sense. Do the moles complain in turn about the worms, then?"

"Wherefore shouldst moles complain? They eat of the worms."

"They might like eating other things better, but worms are just more available. If you're just eating worms every day, you might get bored of them."

"Then have they acorns, which will not wriggle away. Fie, sir."

"I bow to your superior knowledge, in that case," he says with a smile, dipping his head in accordance. "The moles have a nice and varied diet, and I'm sure they delight in the worms as a result."

Ragnelle looks very pleased to have had her superior knowledge bowed to. "What other arguments hast thou?"

"Oh, I have arguments for nearly anything you might imagine. Is there anything you feel particularly inclined to argue about?"

"What color are cats in the dark?"

"Whatever color they want to be."

In typical Ragnelle fashion, she is annoyed that he didn't run with the innuendo, and she gives him a Look to let him know. "Mary, I'll remember to choose green next time."

He laughs and shrugs, as he is a man very used to getting annoyed Looks. "That would be an unexpected surprise, to be sure."

"So thou sayst."

"So I do. Of course, I am generally unreliable and not to be trusted, so that does put a slight wrinkle in it."

"So untrustworthy as that, sirrah? On what grounds, then, should I believe thine own report of thy character?"

"Quite the conundrum. I'd say you probably shouldn't, although that would then logically lead to the conclusion that you should, but then that contradicts my statement as well. So really, you can only use your own judgment, which is almost certainly better than my own in any case."

"It would please thee to hear me call thee foolish, so I'll give thee not the satisfaction."

"Well, I suppose it won't be the first time I've had to wait for satisfaction."

"That's a better answer. An thou'rt practiced thou hast certes some measure of fortitude in thy flesh."

"As much as I've needed, on the whole."

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