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

[untamedantinous]

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.

Comments

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"What? No," Susan says, frowning. "America's was still well-enshrined when I arrived here from 1950, and from what I've read since my arrival, it will continue to be thus for some while. And France's returned, eventually, and even England had her Reform Acts, which have slowly been shifting the balance of power from the king to the prime minister, and from the House of Lords to the House of Commons, for decades. No, I speak of universal suffrage." (Aunt Alberta might be intolerable in many ways, but Susan shall allow that she is right about one thing.)

[timebethine]

"Ay, on this we agree," says Laertes at once. "So long as any are held in thralldom, and barred from the same powers and freedoms enjoyed by those who own them, the republic and the monarchy are one and the same."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"The equivalence of women's suffrage to men's, in Britain, is precisely as old as I am," Susan says. "And that's only true of the Isles, not the rest of the Empire, where few at all may vote. America has had similar problems. France only gained women's suffrage five years ago - I can still remember the headlines. And women are just one class of people." A vastly superior class, but one class nonetheless.

[timebethine]

"Ay, Denmark has a similar bar on the election of the king," says Laertes. "Of all her many people, very few are the men who can cast their votes for him, and none are women."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Voting for a king," says Susan, shaking her head. "It always sounds ever so queer to me. Much better to be appointed head of state by a lion."

[timebethine]

"By a--" Laertes tries to remember whether at any point in their relatively short acquaintance Susan has ever mentioned a lion.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"A wild talking lion," Susan confirms with a solemn nod. "...In recompense for dethroning a dictator."

[timebethine]

"Thy Narnia was a stranger place than I could have imagined," Laertes manages.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"His name was Aslan. In retrospect, I believe," says Susan, thinking of Lucy's visit and then trying very hard not to think of Lucy's visit at all, "he must have been God." Her tone slips, as she says this; she's been teasing (however poorly) since she first mentioned him, but now she sounds somewhat grim.

[timebethine]

"Few kings who claim divine right ever meet the author of their sovereignty," says Laertes. "It sounds awful."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"At the time, I thought it magical," Susan says, in tones that suggest she disagrees with her childhood assessments.

[timebethine]

"Ay," says Laertes wryly, "for then thou wert in accord with him."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I suppose that must be true."

[timebethine]

"I have no taste for God," says Laertes. "If I am to be damned for loving this world's sweet pleasures, then let me be damned."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"If Heaven is anything like Lucy described when she was here," says Susan, quiet enough that Laertes might have to strain to hear it - this is a revelation to herself too; she's thought it, off and on, but hasn't been brave enough to commit to the thought - "I shouldn't want to go at all."

[timebethine]

It's instinctive--not calculated at all--when Laertes takes her hand and presses it. He hears something in her voice that sets a hook in him, and he reaches for her.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan looks up at him, shocked - but then she smiles at him, small but grateful.

[timebethine]

After a moment, he lets her hand go, and drains his glass of water. "I ought to go speak with Claudius now," he says, "but I thank thee for the conversation."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"What?" with some surprise; in her mind, she takes herself forcefully by the shoulders, lifts herself from the ground, and gives a good, sharp shake to get the wrinkles out. "Oh, of course. Yes. Thank you, as well; it was... illuminating."

[timebethine]

"Oh, I hope not," Laertes laughs. "Good day, Susan."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan considers belaboring the point - Laertes has given her a lot to think about, actually! - but decides to let it go. "Until next time, Laertes."