RP for boygeneral

[winecask]

Grantaire is, as he has been these past few days, sitting despondently in Enjolras' rooms, in a small, clean boarding house that is a far cry from his own dirty, cheap lodgings. Those had been veto'd following the realization that R could have whatever amount of drink and other items squirreled away in his tiny room, and, as Enjolras was apparently

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[boygeneral]

To help, there was a bit of normality; the hunched figure of Enjolras himself, sitting at his desk across the sparse room. There, he carefully dipped the heads of pins in different colored wax, blowing on them to dry. These would be the markers for his newest (and only) attempt at decorating the room: a map showing the streets of his beloved Paris. He'd slipped out earlier while Grantaire was asleep to purchase it, and hung it carefully, squarely beside his window, where he could see it whenever he looked up from work or study.

He was silent, intent on his task, but that didn't mean that some small part of his attention wasn't given to the sad personage to whom he'd given his bed. Grantaire was, among other, less positive things, something of a friend, and Enjolras' current side project. His friends say he needs more humanity, more politeness; instead, he will give them a healthy R, to contribute both these things for him.

[winecask]

R, unfortunately, was not feeling altogether healthy at the moment.

"E-enjolras. Enjolras. I need a drink."

[boygeneral]

Enjolras glances over, putting down the most recently finished pin, and frowns. He has many frowns, most of which Grantaire has seen for one reason or another, and this one is unavoidably a little concerned, if skeptical.

"Again? Already?"

[winecask]

Grantaire was either becoming even more adept at appearing pitiful, or he truly felt terrible. "Yes, again. Yes, already. I've returned to shaking, now."