For Athos

[lafaute]

For all that this world seems so equitable in so many ways, there are things here that Gavroche finds entirely unjust. The fact that there are still those that starve or have no homes to go to is the largest of these, yes, but there are others. One which he finds particularly irksome is this notion of ‘legal age’ and the fact that he is allowed in so few establishments that serve alcohol. It is not that Gavroche has any real desire to drink the spirits on offer, but these places are the best to learn things about the city and its inhabitants. Useful things, which will make Gavroche again King of the Streets.

There are a few places that he can go, he has found. Less savoury ones pay him little enough attention; a few even treating him as if he were an expected presence. These are his favourites, and after his classes with Combeferre he often makes a round of them all, charming the staff and listening to the patrons. He has a bowl of soup here, a serve of bread toasted with garlic butter at another – and rarely does he have to pay. It is, he thinks, as it should be.

When he arrives at his final stop of the afternoon, he finds a new face among those that sit at the bar. At least, newish, for the man is one he has seen before, at Porthos’ party. “Bonjour m’sieur,” he says as he clambers onto the stool, smiling when a bowl of nuts appears before him and a glass of what he now knows is coke. “Ah, this place is a good one, is it not?”

Comments

[lafaute]

"Oui. He and his friends, they were my compatriots in the fight for equality," he says with pride. Things here seem to be closer, but there is still a long way to go.

[somepoorsoul]

“Equality,” Athos echoes without bothering to hide his skepticism. He knows things are different here, and doesn’t mind much one way or the other, but in the France he had known? Strangely, he is reminded both of the Comtesse de Larroque and that slippery creature Vadim, and it is an uncomfortable combination. “And how did they intend to accomplish that?"

[lafaute]

"Why, through revolution," he says, as if there could be no question to this. "The people would rise."

[somepoorsoul]

Like Vadim, then. Or, more accurately, Vadim’s foolish friends.

“And then what?"

[lafaute]

"What do you mean?" That was a confusing question. There was only one place for it to go, the new world that would have risen up. "We would have taken the government."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos sighs. He should not be arguing politics with a child; it is a foolish and pointless act, especially in this absurd world where their opinions have no purpose, anyway. “Of course,” he murmurs, thinking that the boy is unlikely to leave it there. Foolish child.

[lafaute]

He knows that sort of tone, and knows that it means Athos is not one of the believers. "It would happen."

[somepoorsoul]

Children, Athos supposes, must hope for better than their lot or die of despair, though he doubts that many of them turn to political philosophy for their wellspring. He will grant the boy this: something clearly changed, somewhere along the line. One only need see the ease with which Porthos can now walk down the street, even sans the deference provoked by arms and the king’s uniform, to realize that not all is as it once was.

Still, he has no time for the sorts of rebels and radicals the gamin speaks of, who tend to get people killed for no reason. Athos sighs and shrugs. It is no matter now. “Very well."

[lafaute]

"Very well indeed." Gavroche nods, tipping his head toward the other man. "But, I should go. I have stayed here too long. They start to notice after some time."

[somepoorsoul]

Athos nearly smiles, imagining the boy being chased out with a broom, or some such thing, only to creep back in the next day. There is no stopping gamins, whatever one might do to try.

“Before you go.” He sips his wine. “I believe you have something of mine."

[lafaute]

That he notices tells Gavroche a great deal. He is observant, and possibly used to the light touches of the pickpocket or thief. Laughing, Gavroche pulls the purse out, holding it out. That it is lighter by a note is another matter. “Well caught.”

[somepoorsoul]

With a snort, Athos only holds out his hand. The boy will take a tax of some kind, knowing his sort, but at least he will have the purse returned.

[lafaute]

"Another time, Monsieur Athos," he says, handing the wallet back and bowing with a flourish. He waves at the barman, looking surly behind the counter before turning and darting out the way he had come - through the back.