Dream ✍ 003

[chose_death]

Warnings: Heavily implicated death. Spoilers for Les Misérables... If, you know, people are concerned with spoilers for 19th century lit.
Dream Effect: [OPTIONAL] Those who choose to feel it will get slammed in the face with a fluctuation of emotions as written. If you opt in for sensation, as well, stick to what's written - there will be a

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[chose_death]

[Javert did not sleep well, that is a given

[chose_death]

[It is much more accurate to say that Javert's appearance could be owed to a mixture of all of the above. He rarely gives himself enough attention to be entirely healthy at any given point in time, but it is certainly exacerbated by recent events and thoughts. Valjean's proximity is one plague that simply continues to resurface, even after death.

Still, Edgeworth's is a carefully-chosen question.]

Good enough, Monsieur.

[Edgeworth is treading too lightly, and Inspector Javert can guess the exact reason why. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He takes a moment to shut and lock the front door of his flat behind him, slipping the key in his pocket. It makes an odd jangling sound. His snuffbox and one of the pill bottles he received for Christmas (which he had forgotten about) are still stuffing his overcoat pockets. With that task completed, he fixes his full, firm, level attention on his superior.]

--But that is not what you want to ask.

1/2

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[After a palpable pause in which Javert's lower lip contracts almost imperceptibly, the lower teeth glimpsing daylight, he gives Edgeworth a very curt nod.]

I think that appropriate. I won't keep you long. There's very little else to be said of such business. A pithy exchange of word and wit will suffice.

[Javert hangs up and tucks the Dreamberry away. He heads straight for Prosecutor Edgeworth's office.]

2/2

[chose_death]

[Nine minutes and 45 seconds later, Javert stands before Edgeworth's desk. He holds his hat in his hands, arms clasped together behind his back. He keeps his chin up but his gaze is wandering, sweeping over Edgeworth's desk in that sort of manic, attentive restlessness of the weary and preoccupied.

The Inspector did not want to be there. Edgeworth clearly has no intention of getting rid of him, so there is little use for this chit chat at all. Javert is well-versed in affairs of the bureaucratic, procedural song and dance, and he would have to waltz his way through this conversation today.

He already bowed a terse greeting. Now he waits in silence for Edgeworth to begin and get this whole charade finished.]

[chose_death]

[Damn.

Insignificant as these details may be, Javert notes them during his initial visual sweep. The message is heard loud and clear. What Javert intends to be a quick ditty requiring little explanation beyond what is already recorded for posterity, Monsieur Prosecutor is preparing instead to orchestrate a lengthy, gloomy dirge.

With that permanent frown betwixt his brows that is so characteristic of the Inspector, he reluctantly takes a seat. He sours immediately upon reclining, the faintest of grimaces at his cheek. He takes a moment to readjust himself, his hat at his side, his back straight and chin up. His eyes sweep over the top three reports atop the desk.]

I presume this private matter concerns my personal history.

[chose_death]

[After thoroughly memorizing the scene, Javert grimaces firmly. He lifts his head to meet Edgeworth's haughty glance.]

So I see, Monsieur.

[Clearly the Inspector is unashamed of what he had done.]

Well, yes. I had done it. Wright supplied that information in his list.

[chose_death]

[Javert frowns.]

I do recall that I have already informed you, and I will remind you now, Monsieur. When I was given this position, I believe I said that you must turn me out at any sign of unfitness for this service.

[It is your judgment, Edgeworth. Is the man who sits before you the sort of man you would characterize as 'unsound of mind' for his position? For a brief moment, Javert looks distinctly awkward in his chair, his tall frame barely fitting within a chair meant for shorter individuals.]

Has that time come? I don't agree this is the best example. But I will accept it.

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[The Inspector's face contorts in that way it always does whenever someone accuses him of being capable of bending under pressure.] Allowing personal matters to interfere with duty is very serious, Monsieur. I do not dream of it.

[And yet Javert had done just that in Valjean's case, hadn't he? His expression melts