[OPEN and CLOSED... See Threads] New Employees and a Café

[inseine]

Characters: Javert, Bean, Aisha, Logan, Sabriel, and YOU
Date: Late April for Bean, Aisha, and Logan; May 14th for Sabriel; TODAY FOR YOU
Location: Earth Sector
Situation: Javert has hired some translators and a well-spoken man to read aloud the entire-gosh-darn-law-code for Keeliai for distribution to all foreigners on Tu Vishan. In light of recent developments revealed by Iorveth, Javert also finally chose to request formal magic lessons from Sabriel. Thread starters in the comments below.
Warnings/Rating: Light sarcasm, gratuitous amounts of morbid humor, Javertesque bluntness and honesty
Notes: I like action tagging, but I am open to absolutely anything you feel like using. I'll follow the leader.

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[CLOSED to Logan]

[inseine]

After the business with his translators was squared away, Javert brushed all of that junk out of the way and replaced it with two thick copies of the Keeliai Law Code. It was five of five o'clock, and his next potential employee -- a king! Javert remembered to chide himself -- was on his way. He stepped back to survey the state of his lodgings with a critical eye and a deep grimace. How on Earth could he prepare for a high-bred individual in his home?

With something resembling a queer, irritated anxiety, he paced around his desk, mulling over whether or not he should toss out those papers or place these leaflets away on a shelf or clear up his half-drunk and stained mug of coffee from the arm of his chair. He was a proud man, and proud men tended to make themselves all the more aware of their unpolished manners around their betters. After about three minutes of pacing around, he stubbornly decided to let his office be.

You are an ass, Javert admonished himself silently. Let the good Monsieur decide for himself if he wants to work with you, as you are!

He leaned against the back edge of his desk and satisfied himself with watching the second hand tick each second away.

[thetyrant]

Logan arrived a few minutes early, making sure to be fed and watered and clothed in something respectable, if not exactly kingly -- the breastplate and shoulder pads always attracted unwanted attention. Dark pants, a lighter shirt of thicker fabric, as if it had a hope of hiding how skinny he was.

He knocked politely at the door and waited, reflecting briefly on how odd this was. He rarely had cause to knock, really. The king came and went as he pleased, and he rarely called anywhere -- people came to him. Keeping to himself so much in the brief months he'd been here, the habit hadn't been broken yet.

[inseine]

Javert's gaze darted to the portal. He raised his chin and drew up his shoulders to his full, military-stiff height. He paused, just long enough to direct a scowl inwardly, and slowly strode to his place behind his desk.

It seemed they already had one thing in common: Both wore thick layers of fabric, to pile on an illusion of bulk over gaunt frames. In Logan's case, it was a thicker fabric; in Javert's, it was a massive, tailored coat, perhaps the nicest piece of clothing he dared to own. With a shuffle of papers, he made certain that certain agreements were within arm's reach and called to the door with an abrupt snap,

"Enter!"

[thetyrant]

Logan entered, drawn up to his full height. Knocking wasn't kingly, but he could at least do his best otherwise.

"Monsieur Javert, I presume," Logan said. He obviously pronounced "monsieur" like a foreigner who'd heard it only once or twice, but he was trying. He gave a slight bow, as befit respect for someone near him in station. "I am glad to meet you in person."

[inseine]

Javert was disconcerted, and it was written all over his flummoxed face. He hesitated, his eyes rather plainly boggling Logan up and down, noting his state of dress, his manner, his carriage, the small scars on his face. He certainly looked like a leader, and a soldierly one, at that, who has seen and participated in quite a few of his own battles. That made this awkward introduction all the more shocking to Javert. A king bowing to a man like himself! Javert did not deserve this recognition. He had not earned it.

Despite a plunging, searching stare, Javert opened his mouth to speak.

"Monsieur Logan," he greeted quickly, offering his own respectful bow (perhaps a bit deeper than Logan's). His voice and fluid movements were exponentially more measured than his expression, with the blunted consonants and sharp, nasal vowels typical to a light French accent. "You are timely. There is a rack by the door, you will want to get comfortable." His eyebrow climbs his narrow forehead. "Don't be glad yet. We will see if that holds by the end of the evening."

In other words, Logan was in for a long night.

Javert motioned to the seat across from himself and remained standing, waiting for Logan to lead. It was strange and rather primitive, this awkward combination of abrupt, unfiltered speech and self-conscious respect. He gave the impression of a wild savage brewing just beneath a clean surface, tamed in infancy, coached in human manners, and hyper-aware of his roughness lingering just beneath the flesh.

"The chair, papers, and Keeliai Code, English translation, are for you." He pursed his lips and added, his lids dropping to the stacks, "When it pleases you."

[thetyrant]

Logan's lips twitched into a small smirk. Whatever Javert had for him, Logan was confident he could handle it. He'd had worse nights than this. (Much, much worse. He had to force his mind away from the Crawler and back to the present.)

That aside, the man was...interesting. Typical self-absorbed king, it took something remarkable for a person to become more than part of the scenery. But there was something about Javert to demand his attention. He didn't move for a moment, watching the man with an impassive gaze.

But he averted his eyes after a moment and sat in the chair indicated, surveying what was laid before him and pulling the Keeliai code toward himself. "Anything else to know, before I begin?"

[inseine]

"Well, yes," said Javert pointedly. "If you will allow me." There is a faint, humorless smile at the corner of his mouth, and he tapped the thin stack of papers beside the law code. He slowly resumed his seat for the first time since Bean and Aisha had exited and placed his palms flat atop his desk.

"That is your contract. I had it drawn up in the English language." Meaning he paid someone to write what he dictated. "You are welcome to read it now. It is mostly in order, but there is one blank line: wage." He raised his eyes to Logan's. Just as the king studied Javert and wondered what sort of man could command a room with such natural ease, Javert intently observed and scrutinized Logan for his own mental dossier. He wondered blandly to himself, would a king have any real conception of what services cost? He would soon find out, in uttering a single, simple, risky question.

"How much do you want? For the reading and time spent distributing to the public, once it's finished."

[thetyrant]

"Ah, yes." Don't blame him, he has advisors who handle this sort of thing.

The answer to Javert's question was 'not even a little.' Logan knew in a relative sense what things cost in his own kingdom, but he tended to think of those numbers in a broad, economy-wide sort of way, for the purpose of determining how much he could tax. Ask the price of bread and he'd say 'most can buy two loaves with a day's work,' not 'ten gold.' And he had no idea how that was relative to Tu Vishan, although having had to fend for himself for a few months, he had a somewhat better idea of concrete prices. But for a matter like this? No clue.

He considered what he'd been making at his previous job, working with plants. Rather not unlike this in some ways; low-stress, repetitive, soothing. Then he considered what he thought he'd need to live. Then he considered all the reasons Javert had given why he was very good for this job, and thought he probably deserved a little more than many other candidates.

"Three juulan per hour, perhaps?" he suggested. "You did mention an hourly wage, and it seems to me that the time needed to complete the task cannot be accurately assumed yet."

[inseine]

Javert's expression did not change, his stare piercing and intent. Rather than answer Logan immediately, he pulled the contract toward him and flips through to the wage section and scrawled in a figure. That task accomplished, he slid the stack back to Logan.

"That will do for you," murmured Javert. If Logan bothered to investigate the stack, he would notice that Javert applied a rate of five juulan an hour, and not three. Apparently Javert thought you undervalued your work. "You strike me as an honest fellow. I must trust that you will not draw out the hours overlong."

Javert abruptly handed off a pen to Logan. "Keep it," he instructed -- to use as he pleased for perusing the contract and noting 'stop' points in his reading when Logan needed a brief rest. "I will show you where to speak into the voice record device." Javert paused mid-turn. He darted a sidelong glance to Logan. "Have you used such a thing? Besides the bulletin communications?"