[Video] - Forward dated to Monday

[walkingtheweb]

[He's thought a long, long time about doing this. In a way he wishes he could avoid it, but there's something about seeing the sickeningly sweet quasi-romance Jean Louis and Mireille have been making oh so public recently has hardened his resolve. In theory, he has nothing against the idea of there being some necessary lies in any relationship,

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[video|private]

[unreadability]

[There is a long moment where the camera catches nothing but the dusty lighting of the Duroc bedroom and the sound of rain against the window. Somewhere off-screen, Mireille is hesitating; preparing to refuse such an offer of betrayal. Finally, she steps closer, her eyes... inquiring, more so than anything else. The words that come over her lips are true to her features, not to her intentions.]

Jean Louis is at the library currently.

[action]

[unreadability]

[At this point, she turns around. Her back is straight and inflexible, her faith unyielding. He has always been a shooting star, a comet of a politician; Jean Louis. Young and from the higher middle classes, a rarity in parliament. Surely such an ascend will burn bridges and require sacrifices, but the death of an innocent family, when they have agreed to sell their silence...?]

My husband can be faulted for many misdeeds, but he is no murderer.

[action]

[walkingtheweb]

[In the strictest interpretation of the word, Ray would have to agree. Jean Louis was not a murderer. But only in the strictest sense, in that he would rather pay someone else to do his dirty work]

I did not say he was. But there are many who would commit such crimes for pay. And far easier to pay one person for a permenant solution than pay three for a chance of silence...

[action]

[unreadability]

Unless you are speaking out of certainty, I shall ask that you leave my home immediately.

[Anger. Or fear disguised as anger.

Rumours and suspicions are easily accessible for all. And easily planted where one wants them to be found. A voice in the back of her head is reminding her of the look on Michel Lavreau's face, when Father had died between his hands. His wife bringing him a towel to wipe his bloody hands in. Like someone has wiped their hands off the Lavreau family's death.

It could as well have been her, isn't that so? Cleaning what was already tarnished. If Jean Louis --]

[action]

[walkingtheweb]

I... was nearby. No accidental fire burns that fast.

[He can understand the anger, but he will not back down in the face of it. While he might be fudging the details, the core of the matter was fact.]

I... I know it is not what you would wish to hear, but it is what happened.

[action]

[unreadability]

[It would not be too difficult, to dismiss his words. To refuse that which makes perfect sense. Instead, she is left to stare at him, soundlessly. 'We did not wish for it. We did not cause it,' Jean Louis had said to her. He had held her, reassured her, kissed her. And all the time, he had made a fool of her, lying as if she would not have underst --

There is only numbness, after that. Numbness and her father's name. Philippe Barrault. The name in which Michel Lavreau's family was killed.]

I see.

[action]

[walkingtheweb]

[The blankness of her expression troubles him. She is not a woman given to outward displays, he knows, but here, now, he wishes he could tell more of what is going on in her head.]

I am sorry. I just felt I could not let you... continue on in ignorance. This has weighed most heavily on me.

[action]

[unreadability]

As such, I can rely on your assistance now?

[Ignorance is indeed bliss, but it is also false. And she has never been one to avoid the realities of her world. It is what she has always insisted on, the values her father has brought her up to treasure most. Truth and integrity. From Jean Louis, she has learned about the subtle art of lying; nothing else and nothing more. Apparently.

Walking past Ray now, she moves through the living room in a daze, collecting a few necessities - Baudelaire, her PCD, an extra set of clothing from the pile of newly dried laundry. Not the beautiful dress he gave her, though, for their dinner. No, that one she leaves behind. As suddenly as she began her hasty activities, she stops. Dead.

He... lied to her.]

[action]

[walkingtheweb]

Of course. [He has no expectations regarding what happens now. In all honesty he hasn't thought much about it. But of course he will assist her. It is the least he can do. When she stops, he moves and tentatively places a hand on her shoulder. ]

Mireille...?

[He won't ask if she is all right. The answer to that is painfully obvious.]

[action]

[unreadability]

[Ray's voice isn't as deep as Jean Louis'; and it has a hoarser quality about it. Older, but not in the manner of rank. He's a man who has seen many things. Such does his voice sound. Experienced. She raises her chin, slowly, ignoring the way her shoulders tremble. It is of no importance. Nothing in this house is.]

I fear that I find myself in need of lodging.

[An understatement, of course. She is not only in need of lodging, but a view which is not full of shadows and blinding to look at, even for just short periods of time.]

[action]

[walkingtheweb]

[Lodgings, of course. He's well acquainted with the desire, the need to run away and have a place to run to. The propriety of the situation, or rather the lack there of does cross his mind, but if there's one thing he's learned here, it's that many here hold different ideas about such things.]

You are welcome to stay with me if you wish.

[Some may talk, of course. She is an attractive woman, and he is a man. But let them. He will be a gentleman in action, even if he never could claim the title at home.]

[action]

[unreadability]

[A single nod. It's inappropriate, for a... married woman to live with an unmarried man. However, in the framework they find themselves in now, it hardly holds any significance. Not to mention the sense of security it would grant her; to have someone else around, someone who might be able to shoulder the burdens that she cannot bear herself. Not alone.

The irony of it... Jean Louis made her promise not to associate herself with that man, didn't he? In the end, it appears that she has no one else but him.]