(Untitled)

[iamthelawr_punk]

This was a perfect day in the eyes of Javert. It was cloudy and almost was cold enough for a warm scarf and a big greatcoat. Even though it wasn't as chilly as he wished it to be, Javert was wrapped in his black greatcoat. A black tophat sitting on his head and his grey hair pulled back into a tight, neat ponytail was streaming down his back; he

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[not24601]

The parlour will be already occupied when he arrives: Valjean sits before a crackling fire, a very civilized tray of tea, sandwiches and scones laid out on a small table at his side.

[iamthelawr_punk]

Javert stood in the doorway, surprised to see what he had come there to do and to see Valjean sitting before the fire. Silently, he shrugged off his coat and removed the rose from within, walking over to the seated figure. He set the rose down over Valjean's cup of tea, poured himself a cup, and sat in a chair close by.

[not24601]

"You are becoming a creature of habit, my dear," Valjean remarked, faint amusement dancing in his eyes. "It was all too easy to anticipate your arrival."

He gestured to the rose with long fingers, smiling softly at the sight of it. "Is that for me?"

[iamthelawr_punk]

Javert chuckled softly and nodded. "Oui." He smiled gently. "Am I really that predictable?"

A hand came up behind his head and removed the dark blue ribbon from the mass of grey strands. He ran his fingers through his wet locks for a moment, then looked to Valjean. "You look well, love." He reached over and brushed his fingers over Valjean's cheek. "How have you been?"