Javert ✍ 003

[chose_death]

Who: Inspector Javert, anyone who happens by
Where: A bridge somewhere in Somni
Style: Either
Status: Open like the Wind. The Inspector needs to be bothered today

Comments

here have beato she's cuddly

[mynameonhigh]

In flurry of golden butterflies, did Beatrice appear sitting in an ornate chair, sipping some piping hot tea and taking a pastry from a small white, circular table.

"Having trouble are we? How amusing, things would be so much easier for you if you just accepted the powers of magic, you see?" She drawled pleasantly, eyes closed in bliss as she sipped and chewed her elegant snacks.

SWEET

[chose_death]

"No trouble at all."

By now, Javert was growing alarmingly accustomed to unwelcome interruption, and he was always prepared to issue a little ditty of a quip. Beatrice was the seventh to happen across the Inspector at his bridge. He would have to select a new spot once this latest pest let him be.

"The bread is not stale yet," drawled Javert as he enjoyed his next bite, owing her the slightest, most (seemingly) careless of glances back to her. "Only the leftovers put up a fight."

He lowered the loaf to the parapet.

"The sorcery is yours, not mine. Conjuring fresh bread is hardly a practical skill. I do not want it."

[chainsawofdeath]

[He lightly places his gloved hand on Javert's shoulder, chainsaw Death Scythe gripped tightly in the other hand. Grell notices the focused look in his eyes, the stern lip, and laughs.]

Back where... what began~??

[chose_death]

[Ironic. Javert had just replenished his bread supply and found a new bridge to haunt. A shame it was already ruined by another man's appearance.

...At least this one proved to be rather interesting. It was a man Javert had already pegged to be a dangerous individual. He had an unusual name, a British one, that he could not quite remember. Sutler? Javert stared at the hand on his shoulder calmly.]

My patrol, apparently.

[Not a lie, but not the whole truth, either.]

[chainsawofdeath]

Your... patrol~?!

[Grell laughs and grips Javert's shoulder tighter, his Death Scythe still clutched tightly in his other hand]

Reminiscing, then~?? Such a distant look in your eyes!!!

[phantomfenton]

*Swoops down behind the man, completely invisible. He's already grinning, rubbing his hands together--heh, payback, on Naomi's behalf! (Completely ignoring any valid reasons Javert might have had to badger her, of course.)*

*Floats around the man for a moment, before he darts closer, snaking an intangible arm forward. When Javert reaches to tear off another piece, Danny turns the bread intangible.*

[chose_death]

[Javert had the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

He hadn't heard anything beyond the sound of the cold wind blowing through the bridge. A brief, subtle glance without turning around didn't yield anything out of the ordinary, either. Yet he couldn't shake the distinct sensation of another man's eyes observing him, same as he does to the rest of the world.

Javert frowned.

Or he was just a mad old dog. Just an ass.

The Inspector absently moved to tear off another piece of bread and received quite a shock when his hand grasped nothing. Not crust, not fluffy chewy interior. Nothing.]

What the devil?

[His coordination couldn't have been that poor. Could it?

Javert's gaze is momentarily distracted from the river as he stares at the bread intently - ridiculously so - and swiftly makes a second attempt at tearing off another piece.]

[phantomfenton]

*Grins as the man stares hard at the bread, indeed watching his every move. Still making not a sound, Danny sees the hand descend again towards the bread. On impulse, he expands his intangibility to include the man's hand.*

[chose_death]

[This time, his hand passes right through the bread - and his opposite hand - before his very eyes.

Javert's jaw imperceptibly slackens. He experiments with this newfound intangibility, brushing his substanceless hand through the solid one with ease. Carefully he sets the bread on the parapet. Best to place it aside before he loses the capacity to grasp with both of his appendages.

He snorts to his cravat imperiously, his attitude back in full force.]

So that's it, is it? And without a word to the Service. [He folded his arms tightly and absently marveled at the lack of sensation when it passed neatly into the center of his upper arm.] Hurry it along, then.