untamedantinous | open: voici un chat dans le café

open: voici un chat dans le café

It is finally spring. Finally warm enough for Enjolras to head outside and read to Temeraire without the extra heavy layer of a coat. He is intent on doing that, in fact, searching for their latest philosophical treatise amongst his piles of papers on his table. He is also searching for his notebook, planning on continuing some writing while he's outside and making a day of it. (Ballpoint pens are very convenient for that.) Enjolras has nearly found it when he is distracted by some shuffling coming from -- of all places, his closet.

After a moment's hesitation, he peers inside the piece of furniture to find two greeny-golden eyes staring back at him. "Oh," he says, with some uncertainty. "Hello."

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A good half hour later, Enjolras has made his apologies to Temeraire and can be found in the café, with his new friend curled up on his discarded coat on a chair nearby him. Enjolras is absently stroking her from time to time, engrossed in a book he at last found under his papers.

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Grantaire walks into the café, much like usual. He sees Enjolras first of course and immediately starts speaking. "Good morning! I am at a complete loss about what to--" He stops still. "Wait. Who is this?"

"This is Charlotte," Enjolras says solemnly. "She was on my coats." The lady in question looks up at the new arrival and rubs at her ear with a paw. She will reserve judgement for now.

He shoots Enjolras a somewhat incisive look. "Corday?" He returns his attention to Charlotte herself, then, and approaches but keeps a comfortable enough distance, crouching to be more level with her. "Hello, mademoiselle. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He nods, and scritches Charlotte behind the ears delicately. "That is her surname, yes," he says, with a small glimmer of humor hidden in his voice. For her part, Charlotte once again stares at Grantaire, and then lets out a quiet honk of greeting.

"Charlotte charmante, I see." He calmly extends the back of his hand for her perusal.

Charlotte sniffs it for a moment, then butts her head up against it for attention.

He promptly scratches her head between and behind her ears. "Such a delightful young lady." He glances very briefly at Enjolras. "Did you meet the latest non-feline arrival?"

“I’ve seen him in the cafe; I am aware of who he is.” He shrugs a little and pets Charlotte again, who starts purring at all the attention. She clearly deserves it.

“He is nothing like me; I don’t see why you gave me that nickname anyhow.”

"He is nothing like you. It was rather unsettling at first."

“Well, is Dionysus anything like you expected the god of wine to be?” —To be fair, Dionysus is pretty much acting like he should be, in Enjolras’ opinion; but he is still mildly annoyed about being compared to Apollo in the first place.

"Dionysus? Oh, absolutely. Only more so." He keeps giving Charlotte scritches. "I think I did Apollo a disservice, though."

“Oh? Do you like him better than me?” He sounds amused, lifting his brows in a small smirk.

"He's certainly impressive in his own way, but I much prefer you."

“Thank you.” He stretches to give Grantaire a brief kiss on the cheek. “What was the disservice you did him?”

He ducks his head a bit. "It was ages ago. When I saddled him in my head with a comparison he could never hope to live up to."

Oh —well, if he ever wanted to see Enjolras turn as crimson as the vest he wears in a certain musical; that sentence alone would do it. “That is not fair,” he says, laughing a little. “How am I meant to respond to that?”

"Oh, it's simple enough. Just immediately change the subject and hope you can get away with it. It works well enough for me¹."

¹Works less well here, but details.

"Very well." There's a beat. "In the interest of changing the subject, I have been thinking. Well -- thinking and being asked questions, at the party. Am I correct in assuming you would wish to, ah, have a relationship with me?" --Yep. He's still bright red. So much for hoping to save himself from embarrassment.

Oh. Yes. Galahad. Of course. "... That would be an incredibly safe assumption."

"I thought as much." He clears his throat a little, and distracts himself with petting Charlotte for a moment or two. "I mean to say: I would like that, as well."

For all he means to at least attempt to keep an even somewhat neutral expression, there's no chance of that with the smile that instantaneously sprouts on his face.

"I would take your hand, but I do not want to deprive the young lady of her well-deserved pets."

"Oh, she'll be alright." Charlotte, in fact, will do quite alright without them, as she's flicking her tail in some annoyance. He smiles back at Grantaire, a little shy, and takes his hand, pressing a soft kiss to it.

Grantaire squeezes Enjolras's hand and huffs out a soft breathless laugh. "Perhaps one day I'll not feel as if I'm floating, but it's not today."

"Well -- ah. You're welcome? This is truly not what I intended to spend my morning doing."

"What was your intent?"

"I was going to get the young lady here properly settled, though she does seem to prefer using my clothing as a bed for now. Would you like to help?"

"I will help in whatever way you'd like, dear Lucien."

"Well. Let's go try and find her a bed, perhaps. And a proper collar."

A grin. "I don't know. Clearly she's already found a bed she likes."

"Yes, but I do not know how comfortable it is."

"I would not be surprised if we found a most well-appointed bed and she continued to sleep on your clothing. But let us try."

"That does sound like a cat, yes." He rises from his chair and Charlotte follows, hopping down from her own and twining around Enjolras' legs. "Let's go, then."

Grantaire stands as well. "I certainly cannot fault the young mademoiselle's taste in people."

"Well. She does seem to approve of you, which is good news."

A laugh. "Ah, true. I mostly cannot fault her taste in people, then."

"She shares mine." He raises an eyebrow, teasingly. "Do you find fault with mine, then?"

"Any fault I could find is one I would be entirely grateful for, I assure you."

"Mm. Very well." He leans to give Grantaire a brief kiss, grinning.

He kisses back, quite besotted, and smiles. "Right. Where do we look first?"

"I suppose the first order of business should be finding the nearest cupboard or closet that might hold things. Perhaps next door?"

"Lead the way."

He does, then, with Charlotte trailing behind and rubbing up against Grantaire and Enjolras' legs as they walk.

Grantaire can hardly be blamed if he stoops down and gives Charlotte scratches whenever she attends to his legs.

Charlotte approves of this one. Not as much as she approves of Enjolras, but it's close. Enjolras promptly dives into the nearest closet and emerges with -- an armful of things. A cat bed, a blue collar, and various toys, to start off with.

"I'm surprised the collar ended with only one color and not three," he says immediately, only barely not laughing. "Would you like me to hold any of that?"

"Yes, please." He offers whatever Grantaire is willing to take, as it is kind of hard to get back into the closet with Charlotte in between his legs. On his next venture, he emerges with various tins of cat food and some bowls, along with a few more toys that look like they might be fun for a cat to kick. "I see. She is to be quite spoiled, if this house shall have its way."

He smothers a grin. "Yes, blame the house entirely."

"Mmm. Do you think this suits for now? It has been some time since I've taken care of an animal; I do not think we ever had a cat at home that I saw often." He is very distinctly not commenting on that grin.

"I can't help but think that at least to start, this will be more than sufficient."

"Likely." He'll probably find her a cat tree or something later; or maybe one will appear in his room, unbidden. "Thank you for your help carrying things, at least."

"I am reasonably good at simple tasks on occasion."

"On occasion, yes." Charlotte appreciates the help, too. She is going to show that by walking in between Grantaire's legs.

Grantaire very nearly trips over Charlotte while carrying things, but manages to keep himself upright. "I appreciate her commitment."

"Well. Cats do like to get in the way, don't they?"

"Young mademoiselle Charlotte certainly does, yes."

"I do not know how old she is," Enjolras says in passing, as they make their way past doors. "Perhaps we should ask Magnus."

He looks distinctly amused. "Oh, Enjolras, one never asks a lady her age."

"I do not think she will particularly mind." Charlotte honks quietly in agreement. Or perhaps she wants a snack. It's difficult to tell.

"So very self-assured, the young mademoiselle is."

“She is a sweet thing.” Enjolras would pick her up if his hands weren’t full of cat related items. Thankfully his rooms aren’t too far away.

"Very friendly. I'm glad she took to you."

"Took to my clothes, more like."

"Well, they are very nice clothes."

"Not really, they're -- serviceable, I suppose."

"And clearly comfortable for a cat, which adds to their value."

"I suppose. She may have them, if she likes."

"Well, had I known it was as easy as falling asleep on them..."

He rolls his eyes. “They would not fit you.” That is not what Grantaire meant. He is aware; but unwilling to play along for now.

"They would certainly fit me better than they would the young mademoiselle. They lack an opening for her tail, you see."

"Ah, yes, that is clearly the only difference between us."

"Well, it's the primary one, at least. I have yet to hear her real attempts at speechcraft, so I don't know yet whether that's another."

Charlotte helpfully honks at Grantaire again and butts up against his leg. "Well, there you are, then."

He stoops to scratch between her ears. "Excellent point well-made, mademoiselle. By all means elaborate."

She makes a pleased little purry noise and shoves her head up under his hand.

This obviously requires more scratches. "Truly, I am ready to follow her every command."

"Well, I have been already informed that Szarka is the princess of the mansion. Charlotte shall have to pick another title."

"Why, citoyenne, of course."

"Ah! Of course, how could I have been so remiss. Citoyenne Charlotte it is, then."

"Quite fitting, I would say. Has a delightful sound to it."

"Indeed." He grins and kisses Grantaire's cheek lightly.

He smiles and ducks his head a bit. "After all, if she had pretensions toward nobility, she hardly would have chosen you, I would think."

"Yes, she is a cat of the people."

"A pity the collar you found was only one color instead of three."

"Well, perhaps we will find another one some time later. This shall do for now."

"Adornment for the mademoiselle, of course."

"Yes." Eventually, presumably, they get to Enjolras' rooms and deposit all of their collected items in a pile on the floor.

"I would call that a successful mission."

"Yes, as would I. Shall we go back for more, do you think, or has she been spoilt enough today?"

"I think perhaps we can wait as far as going back for more. Not, of course, to say that she's been spoiled enough as clearly she deserves as many wonderful things as possible. But I think too much at once may prove somewhat overwhelming, so it would be better to introduce more and more new delights over time."

"Ah, yes, that is so. We wouldn't want to scare her off when she is so newly arrived."

"The last person I can think of being scared off had to go on a screed about Bonaparte first."

He snorts a little. "That was not entirely me, may I remind you."

"Very true. I think citoyenme Charlotte is made of sterner stuff, anyway."

"Oh, most certainly. She is not a Buonapartist."

"Even better, she probably has no idea who Bonaparte is."

"And she shall not, of course. Would that France was the same."

"Sadly, although France is unique in many things, she remains as susceptible as any nation to baser temptations."

"Mm. Unfortunate." He sprawls down on his bed and leans to scritch at Charlotte's ears.

Grantaire sits on the edge of the bed near Enjolras's feet so that he has plenty of room to get to Charlotte. "You might say it's better to know and be on guard."

“I suppose, yes; but there is little enough I can do in this place.”

"True enough. At this point, it seems you must leave France in the dubiously trustworthy hands of the future."

"I ...suppose, yes."

He reaches over and companionably pats Enjolras's shin. "Everyone does eventually, at least."

"You are right about that." He's going to shift slightly closer to Grantaire, smiling a little.

He laughs softly. "A novelty that will forever delight me."

“Which?” He is fairly certain he knows; but he’s in a good enough mood to tease about it.

He looks amused. "You thinking I'm right about anything."

"Mm. Well, it does happen from time to time."

"On rare and treasured occasions, certainly."

Mothwing's been busy taking care of Qi Yan lately, which has been a time-consuming but honestly restorative activity. Still, she's starting to feel a little like a six moon old kit in the nursery, all cooped up, so she sets off to see if anyone wants to chat.

She's shocked by the smell of a cat coming from the cafe, and a she-cat at that--decidedly not Angus. She trots inside and sits a few respectable tail-lengths away from the new arrival.

"Hello! I'm Mothwing," she greets the cat, then realizes there's a twoleg sitting beside her. Enjolras, she thinks. "Hello to you as well."

Charlotte regards her with some curiosity, twitching her tail. "Hello," she offers, making no move to rise from her pleasantly curled-up position on Enjolras' coat. "I'm Charlotte. Or at least that is what he calls me, and he smells kind." Enjolras blinks a bit at Mothwing, and nods.

"Hello, Mothwing. Would you like something to eat?"

"Nice to meet you, Charlotte," Mothwing meows. "So, you're thinking of being his kittypet?" She points her tail at Enjolras. "He's generous, at least. Yes, I'll take some food."

“Yes,” Charlotte says, an echo of Enjolras’ earlier solemnity. “His dark room is very comfortable as well, he needs someone to mind him.”

Enjolras gives Mothwing a nod and goes to the counter to find both cats a bit of meat, chopped up small for easier access.

"Where are you from?" Mothwing asks. She's as solemn as Mothwing remembers Tallstar being, at the end of his dads. "How did you get here?"

"I don't know," Charlotte says, twitching her tail thoughtfully. "Here, I suppose? All I remember is waking up in the room with the soft things."

"Amnesia!" Mothwing exclaims. "How strange." She sort of envies Charlotte and her lack of a clan or twolegs to miss, but then again... how disorienting, to wake up here with no history. She seems like a kittypet, without any immediately obvious scars or injuries. Maybe she's been abandoned by cruel twolegs, in which case Mothwing is relieved she's here now. "Well, if you ever need anything, I'm a medicine cat. I'm not sure if herbs can restore your memories, but they'll cure you if you ever get sick or injured."

"Thank you," Charlotte says politely. "I will keep it in mind, I appreciate the offer." At some point during their conversation, Enjolras has returned with some cut up meat for the both of them. He gives Charlotte a brief pet before he sets it down, and smiles a little at Mothwing.

"All is well?"

"Yes, thank you." Mothwing's a little disappointed that Charlotte seems to match her twoleg so completely. Both of them are polite to a fault! "She seems happy to live with you."

"I hope so," Enjolras says amusedly. "It has been quite some time since I've had an animal about, I was scarcely more than a boy when we had Bonbon at home. She was more father's dog than mine, anyhow."

"Well, cats are much better than dogs," Mothwing snorts. "Dogs have absolutely no sense. I guess twolegs can't talk to either cats or dogs, but trust me. A cat is a much better companion."

"I was quite fond of Bonbon when I was small, but --" He shrugs. "Tastes change, I suppose."

Not fond enough to fight Mothwing on dogs being better than cats, which Mothwing supposes is a win. Still, she finds herself oddly missing a bit of bickering. She stretches and sets to eating her food.

In his defense, it was probably over half his life ago that he had this dog; but he is fond of most animals, even if he doesn't admit it. "I hope the food is to your liking," he adds, curious. "Could you ask Charlotte what sort of things she likes?"

"To eat? Sure. Charlotte, do you have any favorite prey or, um, twoleg food?"

Charlotte considers this for a moment, having finished her own food -- and now, washing her face. "Any kind of fish is lovely, or --meat. I do not think I have had much twoleg food."

"She likes fish, which means she has good taste," Mothwing informs Enjolras.

Dionysus enters the cafe and immediately notices Enjolras’ friend. “Good morning!” Let him pet the cat please let him pet the cat.

Enjolras looks up from his book and his coffe, and gives Dionysus a small nod. "Good morning. Did you find a cat in your closet as well?"

"Wish I had." Maybe if he thinks about it hard enough the mansion will give him a leopard. They don't usually make good pets but when you're the god of them it's a little different. "Does she have a name?" He offers his hand to the cat for sniffs.

"Her name is Charlotte," Enjolras says, scritching her absently behind the ears. Charlotte, in turn, gives Dionysus a quiet, inquisitive honk and sniffs at his fingers.

"Ohhhhhh, what a lovely little Lottie you are too!" He slowly reaches to scratch behind her ears.

Charlotte will allow him to. "She was named for Charlotte Corday," Enjolras supplies helpfully. "I'm sure you've read of her."

"Of course." Is he paying attention? Yes. To Enjolras? No, to the cat.

Charlotte starts purring, rubbing up against Dionysus' hands. "Well. It appears she likes you."

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open: voici un chat dans le café

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