(Untitled)

[righteousapollo]

Characters: cultivateslove and righteousapollo 
Time: after classes, post-Mothgate
Location: Jehan's greenhouse on the roof (how's that for Romantic? Yeah, check that out)
Content: Some kind of accidentally comedic snow adventure, I should imagine.
Format: Prose
Warnings: PORNOGRAPHY! RACISM! KNIFE FIGHTS!!

Comments

/gets out switchblade

[cultivateslove]

Jehan was in the greenhouse rather uselessly attempting to move enough snow out of the way of the door to the roof that he could get out in order to remove MORE snow from the top of the greenhouse so the sun could get in.

It wasn't going very well.

Luckily, the trapdoor to the poetry classroom was open, so he heard Enjolras's voice quite clearly, and it was with considerable relief that he made his way over and poked his head out.

"Enjolras! Sorry, I'm up here." He gestured and half-descended the ladder to perch on one of the upper rungs. "How are you? Any news?"

Though he was keeping in close contact with Combeferre himself, he knew that Enjolras would be harassing talking to immigrations at every possible opportunity, and was therefore more likely to know the Official State of Things.

/gets out pornography

[righteousapollo]

"Not yet," he replied with a firm stress on the yet - as his friends knew all to well, to say that Enjolras was determined was a tragic understatement - before adding with a grimly confident smile: "But it's a work in progress."

In fact, so determined was Enjolras that he had rather pointedly been asked several times whether he was Combeferre's lawyer. If it was meant to be some kind of insult or veiled threat Enjolras had taken it in his stride and maintained that one did not need to be in posession of a law degree to realise how blatantly this toed the line of international legality.

Closing the door behind him Enjolras picked his way across the classroom until he was at the foot of the stairs Jehan was perched on. He could see the mountainous drifts of snow beyond Jehan's shoulder. "Harsh weather we're having. Would you like a hand?"

nice icon

[cultivateslove]

Jehan couldn't help but grin at that; he just couldn't be worried about Combeferre's return in the face of Enjolras's steadfast refusal to take no for an answer. He didn't doubt his friend's words for a moment.

Glancing back as Enjolras spoke again, he made a face. "Oh, yes, please. I opened the door and it just..." - he made a helpless little gesture - "fell in."

lmao yeahh but your line was actually "/gets out racists"

[righteousapollo]

"Right. I see." Enjolras stepped up on to the lowest stair resolutely, observing as he did so: "The perils of having a trapdoor in a snowstorm, I think."

Enjolras wasn't particularly suitably dressed for the endeavour but that was hardly about to stop him. He took another step up the ladder then paused expectantly. "Do you have a spade?" he added, "Or were you just making-do with your hands?"