[Javert's lip curls in a deep grimace when he sees just who sent for him. How unpleasant, to put it mildly. Understandably his response is rather rude.]
[It is half past four in the morning. Javert nearly misses the note Valjean so diligently slipped under the door of his flat. Luckily, his boot has very little traction on paper, and he found his leg giving out from beneath him after a brief skid across the hardwood floor. Whoever it was that sent him the damn letter apparently had assassination on the agenda.
Javert almost crumples the paper and throws it into the waste basket the instant he lays his eyes on the name across the top. But, he perseveres by the flickering light of a candle. When he's finished he remains motionless for several long, long minutes.
At the strike of five, Javert knows that his body is weeping in want for an hour or two's rest. He tosses the invitation atop his desk, paper bent and dirtied from the bottom of his boot, and thinks no more of it for many days to come.
Valjean will receive no response from the Inspector. And the Inspector, himself, nearly forgets that he received the invitation at all...
[When Javert finally arrives home late in the night from another grueling day at work, there is a small surprise waiting innocently for him in front of his apartment door.
Wrapped securely in tinfoil and sitting in a covered pan, is half of a meatloaf. It has long since gone cold, but the neatly written note next to the meal explains simply how to reheat it without burning down the apartment complex.
[Javert discovers the meatloaf just before midnight, an early time to clock in at home during his long week. He pauses just outside his Zephry Pointe apartment door after nearly kicking it out the hall window; he bends down to snatch it hastily into his arms. The handwriting he recognizes immediately, a mildly disgusted pinch at the corner of his mouth.
Yet he doesn't discard it.
Instead, he brings it inside with him, automatically tosses the leftover dinner in the fridge and heads straight for his bedchamber. Not eaten for the night, but not wholly forgotten. Naomi didn't quite lose this round.]
[At whatever ungodly time the Inspector returns home this evening, he'll find another offering of food outside of his door. Tonight's meal is chicken and rice with a light side of bean salad.]
Date changed to 6/12/10 --> Diva's Arrestchose_deathJune 14 2010, 08:44:13 UTC
[And ungodly it is. After the day's excitement and arrest, Saturday the 12th was an exhausting day. Yes, he made the arrest he set out to complete. Diva is behind bars where she belongs, and her punishment from justice is imminent. But he had failed to take into account what she would be willing to do, and what is possible to do within a science lab, despite being faced with high numbers of qualified police officers. The caged beast always lashes out. It is something he might have anticipated if he was not too busy making sport of it.
It is in this state of mind that he discovers the meal on the floor.
Evidently, Mam'selle Hunter stopped by before the day's excursions.
Without a word or a twist of his lip, he picks up the plastic tupperware container and enters his flat. In the morning, he will leave two empty plastic containers in the hall for Naomi to pick up at her liesure. The note inside says, in plain, simple script:]
You don't owe me a cent. This service is excessive. You are not obligated to continue.
Comments 703
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I wish to see Miles Edgeworth.
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I assure you he remains as still as the grave.
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Monsieur Fauchelevent
Would like to extend his cordial invitation
To Monsieur L'Inspecteur Javert
For a small party to be held in honor of Alice Liddell
Tuesday, the Fourth of May
At one o'clock in the afternoon
Hosted in the garden of their home in Espoir
Cottage number twenty-four.
Fine teas will be brewed,
And delicate sandwiches shall be enjoyed.
Regrets, please call the above host.
[Javert has an extra note attached to his invite.]
Javert
I ask as a favor to myself that you at least make a brief appearance for Alice's sake. She thinks so highly of you. Bring a gift.
-M. Fauchelevent
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Javert almost crumples the paper and throws it into the waste basket the instant he lays his eyes on the name across the top. But, he perseveres by the flickering light of a candle. When he's finished he remains motionless for several long, long minutes.
At the strike of five, Javert knows that his body is weeping in want for an hour or two's rest. He tosses the invitation atop his desk, paper bent and dirtied from the bottom of his boot, and thinks no more of it for many days to come.
Valjean will receive no response from the Inspector. And the Inspector, himself, nearly forgets that he received the invitation at all...
... Nearly.]
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I've got a message from a potential recruit. His name's Harry Potter, he's expressed an interest in joining us.
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[a pause.]
Very well. What do you think of him?
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Wrapped securely in tinfoil and sitting in a covered pan, is half of a meatloaf. It has long since gone cold, but the neatly written note next to the meal explains simply how to reheat it without burning down the apartment complex.
There is no signature.]
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Yet he doesn't discard it.
Instead, he brings it inside with him, automatically tosses the leftover dinner in the fridge and heads straight for his bedchamber. Not eaten for the night, but not wholly forgotten. Naomi didn't quite lose this round.]
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It is in this state of mind that he discovers the meal on the floor.
Evidently, Mam'selle Hunter stopped by before the day's excursions.
Without a word or a twist of his lip, he picks up the plastic tupperware container and enters his flat. In the morning, he will leave two empty plastic containers in the hall for Naomi to pick up at her liesure. The note inside says, in plain, simple script:]
You don't owe me a cent. This service is excessive. You are not obligated to continue.
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[Why yes...he's sure Javert can figure out who 'she' is.]
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How annoying. She could just have easily requested a dossier from the Prosecutor.
What does she want?
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[Javert snorts]
Let her, so long as it keeps the songbird busy. There is nothing remarkable to find.
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