[For Combeferre] Aftermath

[abaisse_chef]

Enjolras had spent a restless New Year's Day. The weather outside was not favourable to walking, so he'd had to resort to pacing the dank passage from the basement of the compound to the island's caves to assuage his need for movement, for action, though it did not keep him from thinking. Each time the previous night's scene played in his mind's

Comments

[butcivilization]

Combeferre was calmer than he had been in the immediate wake of Enjolras' departure from the New Year's party. It had not shown, swept away as all had been in the magic of the evening - frustration, annoyance, hurt that Enjolras could not only be so rude, but so quickly dismissive even of his dearest friend. He will not change had long been a wry mantra of Combeferre's, long spoken lightly following one of his friend's moments of cold disdain.

But this was somehow different. Even when Enjolras' moods had been directed at him, they had never felt so personal.

Thomasina had asked him not to say anything for her sake, but it was not really for her that he went to Enjolras' door and knocked smartly. He had to do this for himself.

[abaisse_chef]

Enjolras looked up, stomach tightening. It could be someone for Michael, of course. That was the most likely, even. But it could be Combeferre, and--he wasn't sure he was ready to speak to him yet.

He sat up a little straighter and called out calmly, "Entrez."

[butcivilization]

Combeferre stepped inside only enough to close the door behind him. He took a breath, appealing within himself for calm, but his expression stayed grim as he faced Enjolras. "Good afternoon."

[abaisse_chef]

"Is it?" Enjolras asked coolly, meeting Combeferre's eyes. Though he was as much surprised by the 'afternoon' as he was in disagreement with the 'good'.