closed: 'you don't believe in anything.' 'i believe in you.'

[untamedantinous]

The past few days have been less than pleasant. Firstly, it seemed that winter had decided to take an extended stay here at the mansion: yes, he knew this place had odd seasons, but winter has never been one of his favorites, even at home. Enjolras has been uneasy, lately, spending most of his evenings holed up with Laertes and Sagramore in an effort to avoid nightmares.

Today, he is hoping that spending time with the one other person from Paris will do him good: and besides that, it has been some time since he has properly seen Grantaire. It would do to check in on him, he thinks. And so, he has gathered up books and his nearly ever-present notebook, intent on doing some writing as well. --As an afterthought, he grabs the unopened bottle of wine that Dionysus had given him, and proceeds to Grantaire's rooms, where he knocks at the door.

"Grantaire?"

Comments

[untamedantinous]

"Yes, yes, I know." He takes another, longer sip of his wine.

[futaille]

He shrugs. "Putting aside jokes for a bare moment, though, I do look forward to it. It's a story worth telling."

[untamedantinous]

"It is. If not for us, for them."

[futaille]

"Mostly for them, I think."

[untamedantinous]

"Of course, yes." He's going to set his writing aside for now, though, and continues to sip at his wine.

[futaille]

He drags his own chair over to sit beside Enjolras. "So what have you been up to aside from that?"

[untamedantinous]

"Mm. Spending time with Laertes and Sagramore, every so often. Writing. Trying to keep warm. Baking bread. The usual sorts of things, I suppose. What of you?"

[futaille]

"Spending time with... well, people, I suppose. Painting. Trying to keep warm. Playing games. ... I got to ride a horse."

[untamedantinous]

He blinks a little. "You hadn't before?"

[futaille]

"At what point would I have? That's what carriages are for."

[untamedantinous]

"You never went...hunting, or anything like that?"

[futaille]

"When would I have gone hunting? Not terribly much game in Marseille."

[untamedantinous]

He shrugs. "I don't know; I went hunting when I was younger. That is where I learned to shoot."

[futaille]

"Of course. Not part of my upbringing, therefore I have only ridden here."

[untamedantinous]

"It seems we are both learning new things here, in that case."

[futaille]

"Certainly preferable to learning nothing, I think."

[untamedantinous]

"--Well, yes." He finishes his wine.

[futaille]

He downs his own as well and sets the empty glass down. He then promptly leans his head against Enjolras's shoulder. "I cannot wait until this month is over."

[untamedantinous]

“Let us hope it only lasts a month, I am getting exceedingly low on flour.”

[futaille]

"I don't think they want us to die. Or die again, in our particular cases."

[untamedantinous]

“Mm.” He glances towards the ceiling, frowning. “No, they intend on making nuisances of themselves in more frustrating ways.”

[futaille]

"You know, now that you mention it, you're right. I would make an excellent mansion spirit."

[untamedantinous]

“You would not entrap me in a closet for what seemed like hours with Mlle. Susan.”

[futaille]

"Oh, of course not. I would absolutely do you the service of entrapping you with myself instead."

[untamedantinous]

"That would be much more preferable."