tushanshu_logs | (no subject)

Characters: Combeferre and YOU
Date: 3/31/14
Location: Wandering about the city and sketching things.
Situation: Combeferre misses his bros.
Warnings/Rating: None!

[It had been a rough month or so, to say the least. Firstly, Enjolras was being secretive (again) -- they were likely due a talk about that at some point or another. Secondly -- and more importantly, the other third of their little 'trio' had returned home, to a fate they were all well-acquainted with. So Combeferre turned to what he normally did in times of stress -- working until he was too tired to think. Or, if frowned at enough, distracting himself with other sorts of interesting things.

Today, apparently, the frowning had done its trick, and so Combeferre is out purchasing supplies for his clinic. He may be found wandering the city streets -- and, at various points, he may also be found with a sketchbook, intent on scribbling down a quick sketch of some interesting form of fauna or flora that he has found. He might look like he's about to pass out from lack of sleep, but he is in a relatively good mood. Probably.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[And though Joly had frowned Combeferre quite out of his sorts on the job itself, insisting that he was well enough to take over on his own, without the help of his gloomy colleague and friend moaning about the room like a very rosy ghost... well, with few patients at the clinic (and much to catch up on, truth be told-- it would seem that medicine had progressed, in his short passage from France to atop a turtle's back!), and much concern on his heart and mind for the state of said-friend, Joly had closed early.

He planned a trip to the other man's abode, after replenishing a few supplies; but that seemed an unneeded detour, as he found Combeferre ready in the shop, replenishing the supplies himself.

A fancy form of rest and recuperation, that!]

A lack of sleep makes the pulse irregular, and a lack of a pulse is blood-curdling to think about, my friend. It also cures a man of his sex drive, which is a remedy I doubt your relationship was in dire need of, and ages the skin, which is a proven fact, if a spotty science.

Didn't I pay you mind to go home?

I would much rather do something with myself than lie about at home all day. It is too silent there, and I do not know where Enjolras has got off to.

[He shoots Joly a mild look of reproof, but it's mostly teasing.] My pulse is quite regular, my dear, I do know these things.

Ah? And the silence is not your friend in either sleep or relaxation? It is an odd sort of man who says so, but I know you to be the type who works his fingers to the bone, and his bones into the ink-- you would then use the combination as a quill, if you were able.

[Putting a hand to his back in a friendly pat, ignoring any reproof, he shakes his head.] Your pulse is extraordinary rather than regular, I daresay, if you are unable to get a wink of sleep. Come, come; let me be on the mend with you, then. You can't be above company, good man?

No, it is too much to bear; I cannot help but think of -- of people who have come and gone. It is almost crueler than it might be at home, to say they are needed and then -- taken from us, just so.

Company might do me well. It will at least be a distraction, hm?

There are those who have not arrived yet, to better occupy our thoughts. [He reminds, though gently. Still, he should have to think so himself, what with the likes of Bahorel and Feuilly not yet here, which was to make no mention of Musichetta. It was best not to think on these things, for pit of despair were often slippery and wide...]

Rather, you are a man of science, eh, my dear? Well, there is time to think of. If it travels as a straight line here, in a place where science seems a bit lazy, then there's no explanation for why myself and the Eagle were so late by months. It might define time rather as a loop in this place; which means not all is lost.

[Joly did not quite believe his own words; the idea that those who left might come back; but he offered them anyway, as a comfort. He did not quite believe he was here himself most days, so there was that. But he also did not believe that a living man would fall off the edge of a metaphorical turtle and into death, quite frankly.

Courfeyrac's health had been robust when he'd left. And while health often failed quickly...]

Come! Let's shop together, then. Medical supplies only? You could do with a new jacket.

Well, perhaps it was an extension of your Eagle's luck. I do not -- I must confess, I have not given much thought to the matter of time in this place, save for some curiosity when Enjolras was -- absent, for a time.

He came back, after all. [There is still some hope, it is true, but -- he knows too well what awaited them at home, was reminded of it upon meeting with M-- last summer.]

Oh, might I? I never do pay attention to that sort of thing.