|
Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 22:40:50 GMT -5
"You're terrible drunk."
He grinned back and curled up a little on the bed, wincing, the muscles in his injured leg twitching under the fabric of his borrowed pants.
|
|
|
Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 22:44:20 GMT -5
"What happened to your leg?" *He asked, looking pointedly at Grantaire's thigh.*
|
|
|
Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 22:54:44 GMT -5
"He...burned me with the handle end of a branding iron."
He looked down and traced a pattern in the sheet with his finger.
"For being late."
|
|
|
Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 22:58:38 GMT -5
*Enjolras was, for a second, speechless.*
"Good God, Grantaire." *He said softly. Uncharacteristically so.*
|
|
|
Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 23:02:40 GMT -5
The little man laughed, strained.
"At least it was only the handle end."
|
|
|
Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 23:07:20 GMT -5
"No amount could possibly be worth that much, Grantaire." *He admonished. But considering this was Enjolras, admonishing was probably an expression of affection.*
|
|
|
Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 23:18:50 GMT -5
"He pays well." Which wasn't even true, really. He paid enough to keep Grantaire drunk and housed and somewhat fed.
"He's dangerous. A marksman, and who would notice a little thing like me disappearing from the face of the earth?"
|
|
|
Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 23:26:56 GMT -5
"I would." *He said plainly. And Enjolras never said anything he didn't mean.*
|
|
|
Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 23:32:52 GMT -5
"Well, now." his cheeks colored.
"But three days ago you didn't know I was still on it."
He shifted a little and winced as the drying wound on his leg had stuck to his trousers and tore minutely when he moved.
|
|
|
Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 23:36:03 GMT -5
*He coughed.*
"I thought you were dead. Everyone else was; it only made sense for whatever God there may be to condemn me to live my life without any of you." *He said solemnly, before standing and turning as if to leave.*
"You really should take care of that."
|
|
|
Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 23:41:04 GMT -5
"Are you going?"
He sounded nearly panicked and sat up a bit too quickly, grunting at the sting in his back.
|
|
|
Post by Enjolras on May 11, 2008 23:42:13 GMT -5
*Enjolras half turned his head, looking over one shoulder.*
"Il n'y a plus à dire."
((There's nothing more to say.))
|
|
|
Post by Grantaire on May 11, 2008 23:57:01 GMT -5
"You don't always have to say something, Enjolras. Look--"
He struggled, wincing, and pulled the bedding up over him himself, wrenched around under it and shifted onto his side with his injured leg mostly exposed, the rest of him harmlessly tucked away under the pile of blankets.
"Here's something you can fix."
|
|
|
Post by Enjolras on May 12, 2008 0:01:40 GMT -5
*Enjolras picked up the bandages again, a bit more morose now, and began attending to the burn.*
"Mere de Dieu... quelle genre d'homme..." *He muttered to himself.*
|
|
|
Post by Grantaire on May 12, 2008 0:10:28 GMT -5
There were a few of the vine-like scars on his leg as well, but nothing like what was on his back. These were probably merely mislaid, random strikes.
The cable-like muscles of his thigh twitched and flinched under the other man's fingers and he bit his tongue. The long burn, though not severe, stung worse and longer than the familiar wounds on his back.
|
|