It had been nearly thirty years. Thirty silent years, but Javert remembered, even if he did not.
It was by no mere chance that the game played straight into Javert's massive hands. No, he was familiar with the name of this game. He was well-practiced in the art of smoke and mirrors, of shadows and gambles, and he understood the maws of the beast in which he danced. He understood because he was taught by the best, between the things he had seen in the dank and sordid prisons, the community of wretched gypsies to which his mother belonged, and… this man.
Javert remembered Greed. He remembered his scent, his snakelike slither, his saunter, his smirk. He had watched Greed's movements, the voluptuous sway of his muscular arms and tight hips; he recalled the curl of his strong fingers like they had met in the back-alleys of Marseille and Toulon just yesterday. If he closed his eyes, he could smell the salt air mingled with pastry, yeasty boulangeries, decaying vineyards in his mind. And he could smell the sweat, blood, and musky cigarillos wafting like a dense sultry cloud, beckoning him nearer.
It should come as no great shock that Javert always bore within him a natural pull toward the underclasses, an irrepressible attraction to recklessness and danger. He struggled long and hard with repressing that side of him, lifting his great tremendous fist and quashing the repulsive nature of the vagrant gypsy-artist that clung like a dying barnacle to his wooden heart. He had his adventures as a lad; he had convinced himself it had been wrung out of him, stripped clean like he had cast Greed and their wild affair off, even if he knew in the back of his mind that he was destined to fall. That was the severe fate of all foul creatures, and no amount of polish and pretty packaging could rub it out.
And fall, Javert did, both literally and figuratively. His taste for the unsavory, his lust for danger and the indecent lulled him into the arms of a curvy vixen. Now his beginnings returned to dance like Hellfire before his eyes.
Yet he could not read whether Greed possessed any spark of recognition at all. The better for Javert. He attained the upper hand, he kept it, he won. Now he possessed something he took great measures to shake off long ago. The question that remained: What will he choose to do with it? What should he do, as a married man promised to the woman at his side?
Such were the thoughts that plagued him in the quiet hours, well after the bet was finished. Such were the thoughts that plagued him throughout the day. It got him thinking very deeply and heavily, and no good things ever came of it when Javert sunk himself too far into his own fractured mind.
So when Naomi casually suggested returning to the Devil's Nest, he likely shocked her very conception of him by agreeing without reluctance.
"Exciting, don't you think?" said Javert with a purse of his lips as they approached the bar. "Well. I will admit to you that a seedy, seething hive is not boring. Keeps the instincts up. But don't drink so much to-night. I don't much feel like peeling you off the floor. I prefer you functional."
Though Naomi had an inkling that there had been something very dark swirling around in her husband's head since their last evening out at the Nest together, the woman found herself shrugging off that crippling worry that Javert would suddenly pitch himself off a bridge in a fit of insanity and instead she threw herself into action. If he wasn't willing to burst through this bout of gloom on his own, then his dear wife would just have to do all she could to pull him out herself.
It would be difficult work, Naomi knew that firsthand after all of their years together, but after all he had done for her, in those horrifying last few months of her life, she was more than willing to exert a little effort to help the husband she so cared for.
Which was precisely why a special evening out at their favorite dive bar in Aliunde was on the list of tonight's various activities. It had, after all, been the sight of his stunning win over the Nest's owner, Greed, the last time they had spent time there. Wasn't that sweet victory and the private celebration they'd shared afterward enough of a good memory to push Javert in the right direction?
"We had a great time together here last time, didn't we?" Naomi was dressed up and all sweet, loving smiles towards her husband tonight, pressed up comfortably at his side. Just lavishing her complete attention on the man as they strode through the doors to enter the bar. "I'll be on my best behavior if you are. No more putting me up for bet on the billiards table."
Oddly enough, the Nest was mostly cleared that night. The doors were open, but most of the lights had been shut off. Greed himself was outback by the time the two showed up. He perked up from the dark, cast his eyes down the narrow hall that lead outback. He picked himself up from a project, shoved it away with the toe of his boot. Sunk hands into his pockets and wandered out onto the main floor with a grin and a fire in his step.
"Welcome to the - ah." No need for introductions then. It was the Chief and his wife. Greed stopped dead in his tracks and moved to a switch. Flicked on the lights over the bar, casting it in the sickly-yellow hue he loved so much. "It's just you two," he said, with the politeness of well-known acquaintances. "Coming to check in on me, or is this simple an outing?" He raised a brow, thumbs out of his pockets. They tapped with the need to scratch an insufferable itch. The constant one.
"Whatever the reason, I don't really care. Always good to see a couple of familiar faces." He backtracked on his heels, turned around, and began to go behind his bar. "The usual, or do the love birds feel like trying something new? I could treat you to something - I think I have just the idea." Because all news came to Greed and he was beginning to collect information. If Javert was doing it, why shouldn't he? It was his favorite pass time after all.
He reached into his collection, thumbed any bottles away. He was going for something on the top shelf, tucked away behind the cheaper brands people usually asked for. When he found it, his grin was absolutely sinister. The bottle was ancient, green, stopped with a metal contraption that had far outlived its usefulness in an era where things of old were cast aside easily by fast-paced technology and the newest, shiniest thing. But Greed loved the bottle he chose. It was sin and temptation all wrapped up and brewed by the best.
It was Absinthe - La Fee was the name, though Greed wasn't privy to what that meant. At least, he didn't show it. He unclasped the bottle, let the bitter licorice smell perfume the air. "I figured I'd save this for a special occasion - this seems like the right time." He clipped three glasses with his fingers, displayed them on the counter. "Takes a bit to prepare, but from what I gather, it's worth it." The green liquor bottle was sat down and Greed grabbed a metal spoon - well, it appeared to be a spoon. Flat with intricacies carved into the bottom, leaving giant holes. He leveled it out on one glass first and plopped a small sugar cube top. "Now, not sure if this is going to be to your liking, but I'm hoping it is. Same deal as before - if you don't like it, you don't have to pay for it." The homunculus snaked hardened fingers and knuckles around the neck of the bottle and poured over the square-cut white sugar. Let the booze sink into it and melt into the glass.
A lighter was removed from his back pocket and, as he lifted the bottle up, he flicked it. Once, twice, and the sugar cube ignited, burning and bubbling with absolutely wretched browns. Caramelized right there, seeping into the putrid green liquor. Made it emerald with its touch. He repeated the process twice more and graciously pushed two out of the bunch to the couple. "Well?"
"Didn't you hear the final bargain?" said Javert with an cool lilt and a tilt of his jaw. "You were off the table. I bet only myself."
Before Naomi had a chance to respond to that new revelation, Javert swept into the Nest, stepping aside to let his wife through ahead of him. His gait was slow, confident. He was astoundingly comfortable and sure of himself in such a smoke-laden pit that positively reeked the mantra, Sex, Drugs, Rock n' Roll. He met Greed's eye at the familiar greeting, and again the flood of remembered sensations came back to him in the form of a spark in font of his nose.
Good God, this creature was truly timeless. His smooth and handsome face had not aged a day, where Javert's, which had never been young even as a lad, sprouted deeper crevices with the ravages of time.
"You? Unfamiliar with la fée verte?" said Javert as he slid over the bar. He locked eyes - or rather, eyes with sunshades -- with the deadly Sin. His hand wrapped around the putrid grin drink, slipping it back and forth between thumb and forefinger. "You're well-practiced in proper preparation. Yet you hint ignorance."
Javert considered his drink carefully, and a smirk played at his lip.
"Absinthe is a bold choice. Tell me, how quickly do you expect to knock us to the floor, with this strategy?"
The beautiful woman's dark eyes flicked up to her husband's aged face in surprise at that little revelation, but she doesn't leap at the chance to press him for more information. Not yet anyway. Naomi will just be saving that inquiry for another evening. Tonight was about drawing Javert out of moody funk.
The Devil's Nest was unusually quiet and empty as the married couple strode swiftly inside, giving the establishment a completely different feel than normal. While it was full, the Nest was teaming with liveliness, fun, and a healthy dose of mischief. Though Greed himself played a large role in that particular atmosphere, the bellowing laughter of the men reconnecting over a pint and the sharp curses of those being swindled in pool certainly played their own significant part. With the room empty and the lights dim, the Nest gave off an ominous, almost haunted feeling. Not even Greed's appearance, sauntering confidentially with that shark grin of his, could erase the slight prickling at the back of the woman's neck.
But she shrugged it off, squeezing Javert's arm affectionately before stepping further inside. Her laughter rang sweetly, eyes twinkling at the man behind the counter as the pair slipped up to the bar counter. "And right after I get through telling him I won't end up as tanked as I was last time." But she smiled anyway, drawing the offered drink closer for a better look. Though Naomi certainly had never turned down a drink before in her life, Absinthe wasn't something the petite woman had ever experienced before. Not that she was concerned, of course. She trusted her husband to sling her over his broad shoulder again if this was too much for her. Despite how often she indulged, Naomi would always be a bit of a lightweight.
"Trying to make a liar out of me, Greed?" she ribbed good-naturedly, turning to shoot her husband a smile.
"Well? Am I allowed? Or do you want to wait to get me alone before I overindulge?"
"You're both so quick to make me a liar and scoundrel. I'm hurt, really." Greed took his own poison, gripped it tight and clicked his nails on the surface. He hummed, touched his lips with the sinful drink and took a swig. Sticky liquid dribbled down his chin - that was flicked away with the edge of his thumb. "I can't say I remember it - maybe a few years ago. I think the drink used to be popular." Small details; maybe he remembered them, maybe he didn't. He'd play coy just the same.
Greed placed his Absinthe-soaked thumb into his mouth. Teased it on dangerous teeth, then sucked it dry. The bar was a little eerie without the usually faces crowding its walls. It was like a desert, dry and silent. The fan spun on its axis, whirled a faint breeze inside that graced the walls, moved the lighter of the furnishes around in a kicked-up breeze. The lights buzzed something awful, the hallways flickered with bad wiring. All the ugliness that the 'Nest provided could be seen plain and stark to the naked eye without its people there.
But Greed didn't seem to mind.
"So, you're here for the usual. A night on the town and you two land yourselves here. Sorry for the lack of company - I had planned to shut down early. Apparently, there is a holiday going on or something." He took another taste of his drink before setting the sweating glass down on the bar. He leaned in for a look at the two - something was up with the Chief, that was certain. Like there was something bubbling at the surface. All the accusations aside, Javert was actually speaking to him with smirks and wiles. Like he had something planned.
It was intriguing.
"I can entertain you two for a while, whatever you'd like. But I think pool is out this time," he stated matter-of-fact. He settled into a corner of his bar, popped open a little cabinet. Removed a length of cigar and placed it into the corner of his mouth. Sank teeth into the tightly-packed leaves. The lighter was out again and he clicked it open. His other hand went to the side of the cigar and he began rolling it across the flame, puffing it into a cherry red. Acrid smoke burned in his throat, slid into the open air of the bar, and was swept up by the fan.
It was by no mere chance that the game played straight into Javert's massive hands. No, he was familiar with the name of this game. He was well-practiced in the art of smoke and mirrors, of shadows and gambles, and he understood the maws of the beast in which he danced. He understood because he was taught by the best, between the things he had seen in the dank and sordid prisons, the community of wretched gypsies to which his mother belonged, and… this man.
Javert remembered Greed. He remembered his scent, his snakelike slither, his saunter, his smirk. He had watched Greed's movements, the voluptuous sway of his muscular arms and tight hips; he recalled the curl of his strong fingers like they had met in the back-alleys of Marseille and Toulon just yesterday. If he closed his eyes, he could smell the salt air mingled with pastry, yeasty boulangeries, decaying vineyards in his mind. And he could smell the sweat, blood, and musky cigarillos wafting like a dense sultry cloud, beckoning him nearer.
It should come as no great shock that Javert always bore within him a natural pull toward the underclasses, an irrepressible attraction to recklessness and danger. He struggled long and hard with repressing that side of him, lifting his great tremendous fist and quashing the repulsive nature of the vagrant gypsy-artist that clung like a dying barnacle to his wooden heart. He had his adventures as a lad; he had convinced himself it had been wrung out of him, stripped clean like he had cast Greed and their wild affair off, even if he knew in the back of his mind that he was destined to fall. That was the severe fate of all foul creatures, and no amount of polish and pretty packaging could rub it out.
And fall, Javert did, both literally and figuratively. His taste for the unsavory, his lust for danger and the indecent lulled him into the arms of a curvy vixen. Now his beginnings returned to dance like Hellfire before his eyes.
Yet he could not read whether Greed possessed any spark of recognition at all. The better for Javert. He attained the upper hand, he kept it, he won. Now he possessed something he took great measures to shake off long ago. The question that remained: What will he choose to do with it? What should he do, as a married man promised to the woman at his side?
Such were the thoughts that plagued him in the quiet hours, well after the bet was finished. Such were the thoughts that plagued him throughout the day. It got him thinking very deeply and heavily, and no good things ever came of it when Javert sunk himself too far into his own fractured mind.
So when Naomi casually suggested returning to the Devil's Nest, he likely shocked her very conception of him by agreeing without reluctance.
"Exciting, don't you think?" said Javert with a purse of his lips as they approached the bar. "Well. I will admit to you that a seedy, seething hive is not boring. Keeps the instincts up. But don't drink so much to-night. I don't much feel like peeling you off the floor. I prefer you functional."
Reply
It would be difficult work, Naomi knew that firsthand after all of their years together, but after all he had done for her, in those horrifying last few months of her life, she was more than willing to exert a little effort to help the husband she so cared for.
Which was precisely why a special evening out at their favorite dive bar in Aliunde was on the list of tonight's various activities. It had, after all, been the sight of his stunning win over the Nest's owner, Greed, the last time they had spent time there. Wasn't that sweet victory and the private celebration they'd shared afterward enough of a good memory to push Javert in the right direction?
"We had a great time together here last time, didn't we?" Naomi was dressed up and all sweet, loving smiles towards her husband tonight, pressed up comfortably at his side. Just lavishing her complete attention on the man as they strode through the doors to enter the bar. "I'll be on my best behavior if you are. No more putting me up for bet on the billiards table."
Reply
"Welcome to the - ah." No need for introductions then. It was the Chief and his wife. Greed stopped dead in his tracks and moved to a switch. Flicked on the lights over the bar, casting it in the sickly-yellow hue he loved so much. "It's just you two," he said, with the politeness of well-known acquaintances. "Coming to check in on me, or is this simple an outing?" He raised a brow, thumbs out of his pockets. They tapped with the need to scratch an insufferable itch. The constant one.
"Whatever the reason, I don't really care. Always good to see a couple of familiar faces." He backtracked on his heels, turned around, and began to go behind his bar. "The usual, or do the love birds feel like trying something new? I could treat you to something - I think I have just the idea." Because all news came to Greed and he was beginning to collect information. If Javert was doing it, why shouldn't he? It was his favorite pass time after all.
He reached into his collection, thumbed any bottles away. He was going for something on the top shelf, tucked away behind the cheaper brands people usually asked for. When he found it, his grin was absolutely sinister. The bottle was ancient, green, stopped with a metal contraption that had far outlived its usefulness in an era where things of old were cast aside easily by fast-paced technology and the newest, shiniest thing. But Greed loved the bottle he chose. It was sin and temptation all wrapped up and brewed by the best.
It was Absinthe - La Fee was the name, though Greed wasn't privy to what that meant. At least, he didn't show it. He unclasped the bottle, let the bitter licorice smell perfume the air. "I figured I'd save this for a special occasion - this seems like the right time." He clipped three glasses with his fingers, displayed them on the counter. "Takes a bit to prepare, but from what I gather, it's worth it." The green liquor bottle was sat down and Greed grabbed a metal spoon - well, it appeared to be a spoon. Flat with intricacies carved into the bottom, leaving giant holes. He leveled it out on one glass first and plopped a small sugar cube top. "Now, not sure if this is going to be to your liking, but I'm hoping it is. Same deal as before - if you don't like it, you don't have to pay for it." The homunculus snaked hardened fingers and knuckles around the neck of the bottle and poured over the square-cut white sugar. Let the booze sink into it and melt into the glass.
A lighter was removed from his back pocket and, as he lifted the bottle up, he flicked it. Once, twice, and the sugar cube ignited, burning and bubbling with absolutely wretched browns. Caramelized right there, seeping into the putrid green liquor. Made it emerald with its touch. He repeated the process twice more and graciously pushed two out of the bunch to the couple. "Well?"
Reply
Before Naomi had a chance to respond to that new revelation, Javert swept into the Nest, stepping aside to let his wife through ahead of him. His gait was slow, confident. He was astoundingly comfortable and sure of himself in such a smoke-laden pit that positively reeked the mantra, Sex, Drugs, Rock n' Roll. He met Greed's eye at the familiar greeting, and again the flood of remembered sensations came back to him in the form of a spark in font of his nose.
Good God, this creature was truly timeless. His smooth and handsome face had not aged a day, where Javert's, which had never been young even as a lad, sprouted deeper crevices with the ravages of time.
"You? Unfamiliar with la fée verte?" said Javert as he slid over the bar. He locked eyes - or rather, eyes with sunshades -- with the deadly Sin. His hand wrapped around the putrid grin drink, slipping it back and forth between thumb and forefinger. "You're well-practiced in proper preparation. Yet you hint ignorance."
Javert considered his drink carefully, and a smirk played at his lip.
"Absinthe is a bold choice. Tell me, how quickly do you expect to knock us to the floor, with this strategy?"
Reply
The Devil's Nest was unusually quiet and empty as the married couple strode swiftly inside, giving the establishment a completely different feel than normal. While it was full, the Nest was teaming with liveliness, fun, and a healthy dose of mischief. Though Greed himself played a large role in that particular atmosphere, the bellowing laughter of the men reconnecting over a pint and the sharp curses of those being swindled in pool certainly played their own significant part. With the room empty and the lights dim, the Nest gave off an ominous, almost haunted feeling. Not even Greed's appearance, sauntering confidentially with that shark grin of his, could erase the slight prickling at the back of the woman's neck.
But she shrugged it off, squeezing Javert's arm affectionately before stepping further inside. Her laughter rang sweetly, eyes twinkling at the man behind the counter as the pair slipped up to the bar counter. "And right after I get through telling him I won't end up as tanked as I was last time." But she smiled anyway, drawing the offered drink closer for a better look. Though Naomi certainly had never turned down a drink before in her life, Absinthe wasn't something the petite woman had ever experienced before. Not that she was concerned, of course. She trusted her husband to sling her over his broad shoulder again if this was too much for her. Despite how often she indulged, Naomi would always be a bit of a lightweight.
"Trying to make a liar out of me, Greed?" she ribbed good-naturedly, turning to shoot her husband a smile.
"Well? Am I allowed? Or do you want to wait to get me alone before I overindulge?"
Reply
Greed placed his Absinthe-soaked thumb into his mouth. Teased it on dangerous teeth, then sucked it dry. The bar was a little eerie without the usually faces crowding its walls. It was like a desert, dry and silent. The fan spun on its axis, whirled a faint breeze inside that graced the walls, moved the lighter of the furnishes around in a kicked-up breeze. The lights buzzed something awful, the hallways flickered with bad wiring. All the ugliness that the 'Nest provided could be seen plain and stark to the naked eye without its people there.
But Greed didn't seem to mind.
"So, you're here for the usual. A night on the town and you two land yourselves here. Sorry for the lack of company - I had planned to shut down early. Apparently, there is a holiday going on or something." He took another taste of his drink before setting the sweating glass down on the bar. He leaned in for a look at the two - something was up with the Chief, that was certain. Like there was something bubbling at the surface. All the accusations aside, Javert was actually speaking to him with smirks and wiles. Like he had something planned.
It was intriguing.
"I can entertain you two for a while, whatever you'd like. But I think pool is out this time," he stated matter-of-fact. He settled into a corner of his bar, popped open a little cabinet. Removed a length of cigar and placed it into the corner of his mouth. Sank teeth into the tightly-packed leaves. The lighter was out again and he clicked it open. His other hand went to the side of the cigar and he began rolling it across the flame, puffing it into a cherry red. Acrid smoke burned in his throat, slid into the open air of the bar, and was swept up by the fan.
Reply
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