InsaneJournal

It was growing late in the summer, and the English aristocracy was returning to London after a pleasant few months in their country estates. Léon almost envied them; London stank to high-heaven and it was hard to imagine that Paris could smell worse, although he had heard reports that it did. Even so, a week or two in the countryside, in the sunshine away from the open sewer the English called the Thames would be most welcome. Paperwork could of course be done anywhere, and he felt almost sure that it would be done to a better quality outside of the city, but the Commitee for Public Safety would never accept that.

So he sat at his desk. He debated having the windows open for the small breeze that it might offer, but the smell of the city beyond convinced him a healthy sweat was better. He shifted again, down to waistcoat and shirt-sleeves, and glared at the open door at the other end of his office. It was too hot to close it and make the room even stuffier, but he hated the fact anyone to spy on him, and, damn it all, he had only just gotten rid of the woman as it was. The Commitee hardly needed to send anyone especially qualified when even the kitchen boys could peer around the door and watch him.