Who: Balthier, Jehan, Bahorel When: Current Where: A theater at the college What: Jehan's fresh from facing down a firing squad, and did not expect to be here and alive. Balthier's trying to help him feel comfortable. Rating/Warnings: Jehan's got a little blood on him. Status: Complete
Truthfully, the whole thing has been a massive shock to the system, even if it is one that makes Jehan fairly happy. He’s alive, after all, and while he would have preferred it to be in a world where the insurrection had given way to revolution in its fullest sense, he can’t deny that life, in and of itself, is something NOT to be squandered or scoffed at. And, too, Bahorel is here. The others too, of course, at least Combeferre, which makes him happy enough to hear. There are just enough things about this that leave him still a little dazed, like the fact he is still dressed for fighting, a red sash tied at his waist, and stripped down to his shirtsleeves only, with some tears in the fabric of his shirt, and stains that suggest this is where he was shot.
He remembers the moment, well enough, but that bloom of blood was something he missed out on seeing for himself so he can’t quite account for it. Since he’s not actively bleeding, he suspects there may be scars underneath. He’s also not certain what to do with the numbers he’s been given or the device, but he’s following the instructions anyway, half blindly hoping they’ll do the trick.
Soon enough, he’s arriving, blinking in the bright light of the afternoon and never so glad to see something like it as he is now.
Balthier turns out to be a youngish looking man who takes one look at his shirt and winces. "Come on in. I'm Balthier. Let's see if you can fit one of my jackets. Are you hungry?"
Close to the age of Jehan and most of Les Amis de l’ABC then. It puts him a bit at ease to see that and he offers a grateful smile in response. “Ah, thank you, for all of the help. It’s been a long few days. Years, I should say, I suppose.” He adds, ducking his head with a little grin. “I must say, it’s good to know someone else doesn’t think I’m mad, and that this IS happening. Proving otherwise can be such a PAIN.”
"Trust me. It's - bizarre. Enjolras, by the by, is young, and not very happy to be, and - uh - Courfeyrac? Did he use that name with you? He's also young. I've got a photo of the group of us, if that'd help. I contacted the others, but I don't know when they'd be here. Shall we get you a clean shirt and - I don't know your clothing standards. At home, I'm dressed a bit casually." Balthier's leading him in and pouring a cup for him. "Tea. Sit? There's stools and some blankets. And - well - set pieces."
“Actually young?” Jehan blinks. “He’s never looked a day above seventeen to me, so that WILL be interesting. And it does sound as though it was frustrating to be near that age for him from what I’ve heard. His mother...well it’s not my story to tell now is it?” he smiles at the other name.
“Courfeyrac. But that young?” His face falls for just a fraction of a second, then it settles back into happiness. Oh well, some things are going to be different of course and he’ll adapt. “It’s good to know so many people ARE. And I would be considered more like undressed.” he admits, blushing again. “No waistcoat or coat, for one, and no hat. I WAS in the midst of battle so it was slightly more acceptable, but even so.”
He gratefully accepts the offer, and the tea. “Thank you. I could use that. Tea’s quite interesting, isn’t it? A bit dear to get ahold of though, so really. This is appreciated.”
Balthier shows him a photo of Enjolras and Courfeyrac, with Bahorel in the background, on a beach. "I don't think Combeferre's in this photo. But - yeah. He's young. It's not too bad here, right now. I just find luke warm coffee a bit dire." He's filling his own cup and digging around in his bag. "Well - a waistcoat that might fit, and a coat, and a shirt. And some water and a cloth for seeing to yourself. The mirror's chipped, I fear, but not by me. I was planning on changing later to get a friend, but your comfort comes first."
Food's appearing too as he lays thing out. Some bread, a little wedge of a soft cheese, and some nuts and a few pears.
“That’s…” Jehan stares at Bahorel’s face a moment. There are a LOT of differences there. He can see it, in the expression, but… “He’s different.” he says, smiling a bit. “I mean, not in a terrible way. Just...things are new.”
He’s focusing on the rest of things for now, instead. “That would help a great deal if you don’t mind, truly. I CAN return the favor at some point in future, I suspect.”
"Aye. And you're the friends of the others, and spotted with blood. Why shouldn't I try to help out?" Balthier's washing up his paint brush and hands before moving to join him with the meal. "If it helps, it was shocking to be shirtless at home, as a man."
“Less shocking for home, really, than incredibly rude and lower class.” Jehan muses, tone thoughtful. “The poor had no choice so you looked the other way, as a matter of course, but…” Or you tried to better their condition as they had done at home, but they can all speak more of that when he’s reunited with the others. Surely, they’ll want to keep going in that regard, once he’s had time to settle and learned the customs and the currency and…
“Actually I suppose that now that I am here, there are things I shall need to consider. There’s little chance my family fortune’s followed me, and I only was taking a law degree to allow me to be in Paris without my parents worrying about what I was doing with myself and my life, so...what DOES one do for work in this world? Besides your position of course. I’m afraid my skills are fairly...restricted,let us say.”
"My friend's a baker, and another works as a guard at night at the hospital. Another's a teacher." Balthier looks thoughtful. "I'd say, if you wanted to make a small amount of money, you might get into writing? You've got a good way with words, and if you find the right market, it might pay. You do have some starting money as well. I suspect it'd be possible to get you a safe place while you find your feet. I'd . . . think being hurt like that would make it time to take a bit of rest?"
Jehan laughs at that. “It’s funny you say that. Poetry and planting never did much to keep anyone in decent straits at home, not unless you were truly, truly good. I was working at it, with a few successes.” He glances down again, cheeks coloring at a memory. “Monsieur Dumas was a friend of Courfeyrac’s. He thought my work had merit and I DID pass a most interesting party with Hugo, where we spoke about his Notre Dame de Paris, the story of Esmeralda and the Bellringer, and..he had a Jehan in the story, a kindhearted wastrel of a man who died quite tragically.” he sighs, fairly happily it seems like.
“Such a beautifully tragic ending for him. But I did know my way around those circles and could learn again, if there was much hope. Perhaps the agents and the critics would be kinder now. Getting a chapbook out there and noticed was a difficult thing at home. Not impossible, but then I thought I would have time. And well, I AM lucky I was not so badly hurt. But if there IS money to begin with...that helps to know.”
He supposes, first off, he can always get Bahorel to help. Bahorel never minds assisting friends, when his allowance is in.
"I heard it's rough, but it might not be too bad. You can be more open about some things now." Balthier shrugs a little. "There may be - you are in the future. There's things I don't know about your time, or this one, and it may take a while in schooling."
“Oh NOT again if I can help it.” Jehan makes a face. “School is the worst thing anyone can do to another person, honestly. Hustle me before the national guard again before I’m dragged through THAT.” He’s not joking, either. “Offering an EDUCATION is quite another thing, mind you. I wouldn’t mind the second.” He smiles at that. “But, true enough, the rest of that. It’s worth looking into on that level.”
"And from what Courfeyrac says, school here is different from home. I'm sort of - his parent, I suppose? Here, I mean." Balthier gestures. "It's how I know the others. Shall I step out, and let you change? Or do you need a hand?"
Well, then there are things Jehan’s definitely not saying about home right now, if that’s the case. For now, he smiles and nods. “If you’d not mind. I think I can manage it all right. And are you now? That’s good,then. Anything would be better than what he had, mind you.”
"He hasn't . . . talked a great deal about it, but I agree." Balthier pulls himself to his feet. "If you need bandages, let me know. I can find materials."
“Strange enough, I think they’ve healed over.” Jehan doesn’t see how or why but..”i’ve got some SCARS I think, but they’ve healed over when I came here. Don’t ask me to explain that. It just seems to BE a thing.”
"Seems lucky enough." Balthier's guessing it might be a sort of - Combeferre said he died once, before he got here. "But I'll clear out a little. Just call me when you're done."
“It was, really.” Jehan nods. “I’ll do that.” And then, once he IS cleaning up a bit, he does notice the scars, many of them, definitely coming from being shot, and he winces a bit, but he’s here and alive and it doesn’t HURT exactly.
What was it, that quote from Shakespeare...the Tempest, he thinks. Brave New World? It’s not long before he’s clean, changed, and fixing his hair a little.
“Ah that IS much better!”
Balthier's less than a handheight shorter than him, so the waistcoat and jacket aren't too bad. "No hat, I fear, but I tend to lose them, and they're not super common now." Balthier's leaning on the doorframe. "You look better for this. Shall we sup, and try to contact people?"
“That does sound good. And thank you,” Jehan laughs. “The last time I saw Courfeyrac he was yelling about losing his hat.” he explains., “So the irony of him being with you now is...quite poetic, really.”
There’s a bit of beeping on one of the devices that has him blinking a little. He’s heard it when Balthier was messaging HIM, but…
Bahorel’s sent a quick note that he’s on his way over. Wild horses couldn’t keep him from this. He’s not sure Jehan will recognize him, physically, but the parts that are most important still hold true, so that’s good.
Balthier grins and holds it over so Jehan can see. "Bahorel's coming over. He's in some plays, Courfeyrac. He did one this summer, and another one in the fall."
“He always DID talk up the time he played Marc Antony in literature.” Jehan smirks. “Sounds about fitting for him, really. I’ll have to ask at some point for the details of that. Does he still fence? He always loved that best of ANYTHING.”
"He does. We've been going through a few things because he definitely fences to win. Which is not - great when you're doing it in a theater. It's better to learn to control how far to go." Balthier shrugs a little. "At least, that's how I was taught." He's getting up, since he thinks that's Bahorel outside.
“You should have seen him at his full height,” Jehan grins. “It’s insane. And beautiful. But no, you ARE right. He’s probably erratic as anything just now. I can imagine it’s chaotic and brutal, without his full reach to let him get things done. But…”
And he perks up at the sound there, trailing a bit behind Balthier.
Bahorel’s at the door and he’s looking a bit past Balthier when he spots Jehan and then he’s running up and grabbing Jehan, trying to hoist him into the air, despite the fact that Bahorel’s not exactly a GIANT here. He’s muscled, probably the most out of the group, but he’s also not towering either, but slighter, especially now and…
“You’re HERE.” He manages.
“You were DEAD.” Jehan manages, from where he’s been caught up. “You..I don’t know if Enjolras or Combeferre told you how I...you were GONE and there was no…” Is he crying? He’s definitely crying, but it’s not like there’s anything wrong with it that either of them have been taught.
Balthier slips out. Definitely time to text his family and tell them he loves them.