dear_mun | Pondering who might play a lady!Javert...

[Monsieur L'Inspecteur Javert arches a single, black brow and blinks at his counterpart blandly. To reinforce the point, he dips his massive hand deeply into his pocket and rummages, drawing out a small round disk. Inscribed on the front is the following:

Javert
Inspecteur de Police
Première Classe
Aged Fifty-Two

He gives a low, bemused snort.]

Solitude and an imagination. At society's most merciful. Though it is my impression she would end up too much like her mother.

[He follows up, as if reading his counter-part's mind with the intensity of his unblinking stare,]

Does it bother you? A godless, hideous woman with our name. No church would take her. She would follow the stars.

((OOC: *Claps heartily* You are doing a fantastic job with musical/Russell Crowe!Javert. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by how much more 'character' he has in the book, too. :-) Welcome to the fandom, please enjoy your stay! I love a fellow Javert fan. There are not enough of us.))

Edited 2013-01-01 22:05 (UTC)

[He reads the disk to himself before relinquishing it to his alternate. Interesting. He won't dwell on the spiritual or metaphysical ramifications.]

[The idea of anyone of his name and origin repeating the beastly pagan life of his mother doesn't bear thinking about, but he meets his alternate's gaze squarely.]

It bothers me only that this place would shelter such a person. And for entertainment! To satisfy the curiosity of wretches with more time than sense.

How much experience do you have here?

[He's not a man for trusting other people, but if his alternate has any insights into the multiverse, he'll take them. He doesn't see much to redeem the place, so far.]

((OOC: Yeah, I've noticed the lack of Javerts, and I'm surprised! I've felt for Javert since I saw my first version of Les Mis. At least in the films and musical, his integrity is just as unshakeable as Valjean's. Hell, he kills himself in order to maintain that integrity. That combination of personal aggrandizement (seeing oneself as a tool of a greater abstract) and personal abolishment (always applying that greater abstract to oneself as much as to others)—it's compelling. He does need a bigger fanbase!))

Edited 2013-01-02 01:09 (UTC)

[The Inspector drops his badge back into his greatcoat pocket. His eyes glimmer beneath the shadow cast by his hat brim. He bobs his head in a half-nod, lips pressed together thoughtfully. He draws his heavy police-cane from under his arm, tapping the narrow end against the ground in an idle rhythm.]

Enough to know not to expect. The distinct lack of expectations will aid you here above all else. It will surprise you less.

[He eyes his alternate up and down, like a tiger sizing up a rival predator.]

Then again you are hardly surprised. Nor shaken. [His brow contracts.] Nor haunted. [His head tilts, ever the inquisitive canine with his clipped, abrupt questions.] Your mam'zelle was thoughtful enough to better inform your circumstance?

((OOC: That's exactly what I love about him. He's a lot more complex than he is given credit for, and I love to explore his severe and unshakeable personal integrity and honesty. I've always described Javert to other people as 'not really a BAD guy, just intensely principled and somewhat unpleasant to hang around.' ;-)))

[When out of his depth, this Javert tends more toward stillness and stiffness. Throughout the conversation, he's remained almost at attention, intent on his alternate but also aware of the multiverse's chaos and variety around them. It grates, puts him on edge. If he pays it too much attention, it will do nasty things to his self-possession.]

She was kind enough—[he gives the words a sharp edge, suggesting he thinks his mundane is anything but]—to assure me that nothing here is—[this takes a moment's searching, for the right word]—relevant. I'm told men here can speak about the future, about France, even about others who go by my name, and it means very little. Their France is not mine, their Javert is not mine. [He can't manage that last sentence without a slight smile. This is all fantastically—and rather stressfully—absurd.]

Though I'll admit, I'd prefer to speak somewhere more familiar. [Standing around chatting while people from every universe, human and inhuman, meander past is going to get to him soon.]

((OOC: Yes, exactly! He just has no loyalties beyond his work and code and no ambition within his work, beyond carrying it out as far as possible. For someone with no family ties, growing up in a society that teaches him to condemn people who share his origins, it's a perfectably understandable way to turn out. It's the only way he can excuse his own existence. The trick in RP is going to make sure he never becomes sappy about that. I think he's a strong enough personality, he wouldn't ever have a full 'softening,' no big emotional reconciliation with his past or turn against his society.))

Edited 2013-01-02 02:02 (UTC)

Of course. [Javert waves his hand dismissively.] But discovering the Place du Châtelet station around the next corner would be more unsettling than familiar, I think.

[He folds his arms forbiddingly across his chest. His lids drift towards the ground, thinking, remembering. When he speaks again, it is in a fluid murmur, and if it weren't for his gaze returning to the 'other' Javert's he would give the impression of speaking to his own collar.]

Mine--my woman--was silent. It was a devil of a mystery to learn these inconceivable things by my own accord. [A queer, low bark of a chuckle.] The wretch knows how to keep me busy, I'll grant her that.

((OOC: I have found the best way to approach the reconciliation - maybe if you pull him post-suicide into a game, pretty traumatic no matter how you look at it - is to give him about a week to settle in and feel his new surroundings out, scope out what's going on, make SOME sense and order out of where he is and what is going on. At some point, Javert tends to resolve for himself that if he is to persist, then he must persist, and coping with this new situation shall be his punishment for his transgressions in his former existence. It doesn't mean that morally ambiguous situations will come any easier to him. On the contrary, he probably fights it tooth and nail, all with a grimace on his face. But decisions and conclusions that are at odds of his shattered black and white worldview probably will come with time, as he learns to live and persist and cope with foreign experiences.

At least, that's how I've interpreted it in the past! It's a very gradual change such that he doesn't quite recognize in himself, and it's not a big SCROOGE moment where he wakes up and he's kind, either. Because lol.

I'd love to see where you take his character. It's been so long since I've seen other interpretations!))

Edited 2013-01-02 02:37 (UTC)

[Have a laugh that's more affronted than amused back, Javert.] You sound as though that might happen. [Having familiar places appear suddenly before you. That isn't something his busybody told him about.]

[His attention strays from his alternate, just enough to look around him. He tries very hard not to properly focus on any of the people around him—that way lies madness, or at least extreme culture shock. But any place where people come together has common houses. Somewhere where you can spend a little money to talk off of the street. There has to be something like that here.]

((OOC: Post-suicide would definitely be the easiest way to go, in terms of making certain he starts changing right away, even if slowly. Realizing he has to persist, like you say, that he can't get out of his mental dissonance by just jumping off of something. I was being nosy, and saw yours has gotten so far that he got married! That must have taken some work. And a lot of patience on his spouse character's part.

Have you ever seen the UK TV show Life on Mars? The protagonist is a cop who reminds me a bit of Javert. He has a very idealistic, intense view of how the law should work and keeps getting shattered when both law and the world don't play by that code. And when he fails it himself. The character's much more naive and his personality and views of justice are conventionally 'nicer,' but I can see some parallels. Javert's much smarter, though, thank heavens. Sam Tyler is dumb as a box of rocks.

I need to find more icons...))

Edited 2013-01-02 03:10 (UTC)

I confess: it is a possibility.

[Javert bounces minutely, once, on his heels, his steely eyes boring holes through his lost, uncertain, mildly bewildered counterpart. He makes an odd sound akin to a tsk under his breath. He resumes in his odd, halting manner of speech,] I would be obliged to offer a pinch of your favorite snuff. But my box has been... [A sardonic smirk introduces a queer crag in his lined face, punctuating a knowing pause,] drowned. Regrettably.

Come with me. You want privacy. I doubt you desire to trust me as far as you can swat me, even if I am yourself. In a manner. But better this than risk a run-in with chattering ponies or ten-foot-tall mounds of walking metal, no?

Then you will ask what you want. I will hear it.

((OOC: "A Lot" is an understatement... It took about two full uninterrupted years of CR. I was really worried about the direction at first, but if it happens, it happens, and the circumstances lent to it... I'm looking to start my Javert from scratch again, now, since I've been inspired again with seeing the movie and rereading the book.

I haven't seen Life on Mars, but I've heard of it. If there's a Javert-ish character, I'd totally be interesting in taking a look at it. Speaking of modern interpretations, though, I'm assuming you've seen The Fugitive? The writer of the series/movie has openly admitted he drew his influence from Valjean and Javert, respectively!

Sadly I'm not sure where I can find you an icon set for Russ just yet. Prior to Tony Perkins, I used Philip Quast as my PB since... well, he existed in enough images for me, and he was widely accepted as an excellent Javert. Hopefully as the months pass by, you'll find more screencaps and photosets of Russ's Javert. Maybe you can get away with caps of Russ from other films for now?

In the meantime I might quietly follow you, if you don't miiiiiind. I love intelligent discussion like this, and I welcome fresh perspectives like none other.))

[The smirk and pause draw Javert's attention back to his alternate, eyes narrowing for an instant. Drowned? Was that supposed to mean something to him?]

[It doesn't, and there's instantly more wariness in Javert's eyes. He keeps it to the back—no point being obviously standoffish when there's still information to be had here. But the private joke, or whatever it was, is a good reminder that he can't presume to know the man he's talking to.]

I'll follow your lead. You may be a devil in disguise, but at least you walk upright and have a good name. [He is not going to look at the strangely-colored-and-proportioned talking horses. Or the gray-skinned youths with horns. He's getting a headache.]

(OOC: Follow away! I'll warn that I am notorious for picking up characters and then never finding them homes, alas. Comms tend to move too fast for me around work.

I find that RP tends to make characters more 'normal,' if that makes sense. If you play a sociopathic villain, a dashing hero, someone as rigid as Javert--any extreme like that, once you put them in RP, then you have to round them out and they slowly lose those archetypal edges. It makes sense to me that Javert would marry after a few years of that--after all, if he's no longer living for the law, than desire and affection aren't distractions to resist as strongly.

I wondered about The Fugitive! That makes perfect sense. And fair warning that I may be seeing the parallels in LoM through biased glasses—Sam Tyler's a favorite character of mine and I like to look for common threads in my favorite characters. But the series is fun. And has a fantastic ending, in the second season, which makes it all. No spoilers.

I am making icons as we speak :|b

Annnnd final bit of tiny text--my Javert is taken from Paris, but before running into Valjean again. And no one in dear_mun has told him he commits suicide yet. So he has No Clue.))

Edited 2013-01-02 04:06 (UTC)

[A change befalls Javert at the wariness and incomprehension he reads in those pale eyes. The black-shaded 'joke,' if one could call a morbid crack like that a joke, was a probe. He now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this man had no memory of that June night, no knowledge of what would occur. Any hint of grim amusement melts from his face, and what is left is a reserved, impassive look. His lower lip juts outward.

The ball is in his court, his hands. He realizes this, and he tentatively tests the weight of it.]

Emperor of Devils, actually, [he breathes distractedly. His thoughts run ahead of him.] If you consult a handful of our favourite street scamps.

[Javert beckons his younger self forward] Well, come! The café isn't far! [--turns, and marches--the very same military march and upright bearing so prominent in the other man. Unlike his counterpart, he marches with his chin bowed into his collar and his darting gaze following the cracks in the ground.]

[It is a good quarter-hour walk before they reach a small, quiet cafe. Where did it come from? How did it spirit its way here, without any clear shape anywhere else?

Who cares? It was there, and it was intimate, and one can hear themselves think. It sufficed.

Javert whirled about on his heels and lifted his eyes once more. It had been a lengthy silence, his face now marked with a cold grimace. He refers to an empty seat with his police cane.]

Go on.

((OOC: THIS... Will be fun. To say my Javert is perplexed and disturbed by this evidence that his counterpart knows nothing about what is to come is an understatement.

I agree, actually. RP has to make characters more 'normal,' since the situations they're thrown into are so fantastical it's the only way to cope. And I have the same problem with organized games and communities. I used to be able to keep up admirably, but in the past year or so, I've struggled on and off in keeping up with games...))

Edited 2013-01-02 04:31 (UTC)

[It's both grounding and disturbing in the extreme, keeping his eyes on the alternate ahead of him as they walk. The other man has his gait, but a different focus. Javert has to resist scanning the crowds around them, a practiced eye out for pickpockets, fights about to break out—any small threat to the public peace—but the other keeps his eyes down.]

[How can this business of alternates really be? Another man who so clearly shares much of his personality, his experiences, but who wears an entirely different face, who moves and speaks with mannerisms that match his nearly enough that the small differences are more jarring for it. It makes no sense. Every man has but one soul, and one life. No matter what he's been told about other worlds, other timelines, it is beyond difficult not to form questions about the man in front of him. Useless, narcissistic questions. There's no point asking the other inspector details about his life, out of puzzlement and curiosity.]

[He keeps silent, throughout the walk. There's something afoot. Perhaps he should never have spoken with the other man, but it's too late for that.]

[The cafe, when they arrive, is just foreign enough not to be too eerily familiar. A good choice. One he would have made himself.]

[He narrows his eyes at the glare, answers it, trying to get some hint of what's in the offing. If the other man meant him harm, he could have called on accomplices in the crowd many times over, could have taken him down any number of back alleys.]

Thank you. [There's a dry sardonic twist to the words, and he takes a seat precisely, fastidiously, before nodding and waving a hand at the seat across from him, one eyebrow raised. If you will.]

(OOC: To tell your future self that you're going to become completely disillusioned and jump off a bridge or not to tell him and just have really awkward coffee and surreal small talk together...

It's really hard, if you have a day job and a few other hobbies. I take breaks from RP and then stick my toe in again only to remember how much time it takes! It's rewarding, but very time-consuming.

I may not tag back until tomorrow--about to head to bed here. My AIM is kikainogimon, by the way.)

Edited 2013-01-02 05:23 (UTC)

[Hmph. There is the smallest of shakes in his head, and he takes the one seat remaining at the table. What a novel pair they made, with mirrored postures, similar tones of voice, and the same hawkish, untrusting stare exploring every visible surface! He glimpses the doubt toiling in his double's eyes, and heaves an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh through his nostrils.]

I'm alone, [he reassures in a brusque clip. He draws a small pouch from his greatcoat and tosses it on the table. It is a roll of freshly-pressed cigarettes. Just in case. They were a poor substitute for his snuff habit, but he's long since adjusted to the relative lack of popularity for snuff.] You will find yourself safe in my hands.

Now it is your turn to pick your poison. You have questions, I see that face in my mirror often. You are a curious creature, it is your nature. I'll subject myself to this interview. Begin.

((OOC: My AIM is "LariBadger." I've added you to my list! A job, stuff going on IRL, hobbies... it does make it really difficult. I have a lot of fun RPing, but I probably put a bit *TOO* much thought into a lot of my writing, so it ends up taking me much longer to write even one reply than it does most other people. Watching folks tag back at the air-speed velocity of a lightning bolt had me shaking my head and going NOPE. NOPE, SORRY, I CAN'T KEEP UP. :'( ))

Edited 2013-01-02 13:32 (UTC)

[ He leans back in his chair, enough to look almost comfortable. It's difficult not to be disarmed by the other man's mannerisms—the clipped delivery, the long, dramatic sigh directed at someone making too much of a show of vigilance. It's easy to assume he knows the thoughts behind the gestures. Still. No point in making a fool of himself by sitting here jumping at every sound and second-guessing every word his alternate says.]

Very well.

[ And he leans forward, forearms resting on the table, the short-lived attempt at looking casual gone already.]

You seem at ease here. Why? If I knew the way back, I would already be gone. This place is godless.

[ He's not the type to see God's infinite imagination in the kaleidoscope of the multiverse. He sees purposeless chaos, like old paintings of hell. ]

((OOC: Yeah, I need a comm where it's like, hey, we only expect one or two tags every three days! Don't worry about speed or keeping up with big events. Such does not seem to exist, sadly.))

Edited 2013-01-02 18:28 (UTC)

[Intrigue alights betwixt his heavy brows. Javert straightens perceptibly, exploring his double's earnest face and searching for some inkling...]

Never mind godlessness. What the devil does that matter? [he murmurs, mostly to himself, in heavy distraction. It is as if he doesn't fully realize he is speaking aloud.] This realm lacks order!

[But whatever it is he searches for in The Other Javert isn't there. He blinks once, reluctantly, and folds his arms across his chest.]

That is simple. I won't be going 'back' anywhere. [A slight, listless shrug of his broad shoulders.] Apparently, you can. And you will, when your mademoiselle chooses. Assumably.

[ And there it is again. Another expression he knows intimately—he gave his alternate a similar searching look earlier when the other made the comment about drowned snuff, as he tried to discern what lay behind that remark. Javert meets the stare—let the other man find what he's looking for, or not. He has nothing to hide.]

[The murmured comment, on the other hand... He pulls back, eyebrows raised, startled, though he does still register the other answering his original question.]

Then my best strategy is to fail to be entertaining, if I understand the situation. [ A short laugh, mostly a huff of air through his nose, and a thin smile. ] Unless they drop us where we fall, when their interest wanes.

[He crosses his own arms, leaning back in his chair again, considering. Does he want to ask further, about the differences between them?]

Edited 2013-01-02 20:47 (UTC)

It is beyond me why our lives are amusing at all. According to public murmurs, I am a rather... dull fellow. [An equally thin, pinched smile.] It will take time to discover what bores her.

[Javert reaches for one of the cigarettes first, adding a book of well-worn matches to the small pile on the table. He offers an extra to his younger and more godly self, brow tilted imploringly. The pointed, cold stare seems to speak without audibly saying,

But there is more, isn't there? Don't hold back, now...! I am your mirror in this twisted, godforsaken universe. Treat me as such.]

Edited 2013-01-02 21:07 (UTC)

I may take a vow of silence. [But not right now. Right now, he accepts the cigarette, calmly, meeting his alternate's eyes but without challenge. These are a new thing, back in Paris—they must be a replacement for his/their usual vice.]

[He eyes the matches, but will wait and follow his alternate's lead there. The only matches he knows of are unreliable things, with a tendency to spit sulfur fumes and sparks.]

[One arm on the table, leaning back in his chair, he thinks out loud, watching his alternate as he does.]

Just now...you said 'never mind godlessness.' Has that always been your philosophy?

Edited 2013-01-02 21:29 (UTC)

[Javert's brow furrows. Of all the things to ask... What is going through his--my--his head? How far before the sixth of June, eighteen hundred thirty-two does he come from? Can he even remember what the hell preoccupied his thoughts back then?

Probably not.]

Ah! [he breathes, nostrils flaring again. He strikes a match - it doesn't explode in his face, thank goodness - and he takes his time starting his cigarette, murmuring around that little cancer stick,] Now we are talking philosophies! What a thing to ask me! Yet you would not ask if it did not bother you. That would waste our breath. Where on earth did you pick up piousness, I wonder?

[A pause to allow himself to take a short drag. It is interesting to note that not once throughout this walk and uncomfortable exchange has his posture sagged. It is as if his spine is stapled to a rod, holding him upright in that confident, proud posture.]

I didn't consider God. He was intangible. He had no effect on my actions, my integrity, or my career. Hard work. Honesty. Discipline. Vigilance. These things did. [He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, a plume of smoke billowing from his wide, flat nostrils.] What difference did He make to me? The Law was my guide, and I its servant.

[...Yet he still refers to God with a healthy level of respect in his tone. How contradictory!]

Edited 2013-01-02 22:58 (UTC)

[Quite some time—at least seven years, from his alternate's badge. His writer warned him that there's no guarantee another person's timeline has any bearing on his own, in this place, so he has yet to ask any questions. But it's becoming harder and harder to believe some experience he doesn't share with his alternate isn't part of what's driving this encounter.]

I've never been called pious. [He strikes a match himself, and 'hm's to himself at the tidy burst of flame—very convenient. He lights the cigarette adeptly and takes the same time his alternate did starting it up. It's not bad. Perhaps a little harsh, but he could see the habit taking hold.] Not to my face. [The dry smile again.] But the word of God has always been behind the law of man. I agree with you—my place, our place [with a nod to the other man, acknowledging the absurdity of the shared identity] was not earned with God's aid. Man's actions are not God's will, but God stands in judgment of those actions. The law stands in God's stead on earth.

[He picks the words as he says them, carefully, but without having to hunt too far. He doesn't often have to articulate these thoughts, but he's worked them out well enough to himself, over the years, that they're not difficult to articulate. His attention is on the other man as he speaks, monitoring how he takes this. Does it sound at all familiar?]

Edited 2013-01-03 00:10 (UTC)

No.

[Firm. Obstinate. Unyielding. It bursts, guttural, from his throat before he is conscious of it. Instantaneously Javert, as he presented himself, withdraws. An unreadable lightning flickers in his eye.

His younger self knows his own habits. He knows how hard they both work to maintain professionalism and proud poise. They are steel statues, they remain calm in the face of mortal danger, they do not bat an eye at the deeds of the worst miscreants of the streets. Yet that one flicker in Javert's eye speaks of some deeply unsettling, revolutionary feeling. A doubt. Something unsavory locked far away where he doesn't have to perceive it on a daily basis.

Well. Until now, with that rude reminder that these outrageous thoughts and considerations have already gripped him. It is but a fraction of his conscience that speaks to him now.

Javert sits back and takes a second drag of the cigarette, smoke unfurling and dissolving in the still air. As quick as he lost it, he has regained his aloof control; nothing could be amiss.

--But when he speaks again, it is through his teeth, his lips forming the words around an immobile jaw.]

That is a mistake. [He knows full well the Inspector he speaks to won't hear this. He knows this can't be grasped. It's unfathomable.

This is utterly excruciating for Javert to experience, for many more reasons than even he could possibly comprehend.]

Men construct the Law, [he enunciates haltingly, steady and grim gaze trained on his counterpart. A tremor runs down the back of his neck.] Only men.

[God's is a different order.]

Edited 2013-01-03 00:55 (UTC)

[His alternate's reaction is completely unexpected. Javert instantly sits up perfectly straight, focus jumping into the full-situation awareness that serves him in good stead when he meets a threat in his work. Without shifting his eyes from the man in front of him, he senses the situation around him, out of peripheral vision and memory—the other patrons in the cafe, where the exits are that he's seen, has he seen any evidence his alternate is armed or that anyone else is, is he armed—damn. He doesn't think he is. That woman again!]

[But he'll worry about that later, because his alternate instantly regains control.]

[Javert takes the cigarette from his mouth, holds it in one hand while he lets the quick kick of adrenaline run down, taking advantage of it to continue scrutinizing his alternate. Only adrenaline can make details pop quite so well, almost as though pieces of reality had only just sprung into existence. Learning to use that kick productively has been one of his advantages in the field.]

I've hit a nerve. Forgive me.

[Should he be smug about uncovering a vulnerability in someone who's almost him? Perhaps not. But he is, anyway.]

Did you, now.

[Javert knows he flinched when he should not have. More irritating than that, he can tell this younger fool is silently gloating his victory.

He bares his teeth in an unpleasant smile reminiscent of both a smirk and a grimace and... raises his large fists in a long, slow, deliberate clap. He's applauding an old joke.]

Very well! You got me. Good work. It seems we [his canines glint wolfishly, his voice taking on a sharper, more ominous edge,] slip in our older age. Though I will warn you it is ill-advised to continue along that line of questioning. I'm not here to hear, nor will I tell, any sermons.

Coffee, old fellow? No cream or sugar, I'm aware.

Edited 2013-01-03 03:19 (UTC)

[Javert nods to the applause, accepting the jab with his own edged grin. A little open, possibly good-natured animosity is welcome.]

[He replaces the cigarette in his mouth, still grinning.] We slip? We've just made it quite clear that I am not you and you are not me. I'll admit, I was concerned for a minute.

Though you're right about the coffee. [From what he's seen so far, this is an establishment where the staff comes to you. He'll put up a hand, see if he can catch the attention of one of the waiters.]

Edited 2013-01-03 04:32 (UTC)

[Javert considers those words carefully.]

A fair deduction, [he concedes, eyes half-lidded, concealing whatever-it-is he could possibly be thinking. Doubt? Concurrence? He is a blank slate. He mirrors his counterpart's flagging for a waiter and nimbly orders two hot cups for the both of them. Once they are again alone, he resumes with an aloof shrug,] You're differently similar. It is possible yet.

[Yet he sincerely doubted some things were different. A certain, damnably merciful and saintly convict comes to mind. He searches the other man's eyes for any hint of Valjean's influence.]

Does my existence alarm you? [he asks abruptly after a time. He bends his long, lean body over the table and closer to his conversation partner.] I have given you no great cause for concern. Ah! Unless my godlessness repulses you.

Edited 2013-01-03 05:30 (UTC)

[He sobers when the other man searches his eyes again. 'It is possible yet.' The words make his flesh crawl. ]

[When his alternate leans across the table toward him, he removes the cigarette from his (own) mouth, puts both hands on the edge of the table, and answers in a low voice.]

I worry less about your godlessness than about your mortality. You're seven years my elder. You tell me I may leave this place, but you cannot. Something has hung over our conversation from the start, and it is not my mystery.

[He notices the waiter approaching with their coffee, and just has time to hiss:] I have met one dead person here already.

[The waiter sits the cups of coffee down on the table's edge, wary of the two men and their confrontation.]

((ooc: I'm guessing you saw the thread upstream with Fantine. It hadn't occurred to me earlier, but that meeting means he does know the dead can appear in dear_mun. Sooooo. Two and two together makes ouch.))

Edited 2013-01-03 05:57 (UTC)

NO WORRIES, you're doing fabulously!

Thanks! Any fandom where there are multiple canon sources is always a bit nervewracking.

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Tiny two-person Javert fan-party here.

/Passes the party hats and petit fours

The petit fours have "LAW" and "ORDER" piped on them.

DELICIOUS

The mental image of Javert meeting My Little Ponies. Dear Lord.

1/2 Transformers were mind-boggling enough. Oooooh this will be fun.

2/2 Just skipping ahead to make this smoother

Skipping makes perfect sense, no objections here!

As you can probably guess, I went to bed too!

Occasional sleep does help the writing a bit.

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Dear lord my tl;dr

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Javert would object to all these age jibes. He's in his 40s, man, he's not 12!

Javert doesn't discriminate; he'd call even a 40 year old man 'boy.'

I'm certain this Javert does the same thing to anyone younger than him. Such a hypocrite.