enjolras. (apotropaeus) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-12-23 23:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !log, ~2013 december, ~~enjolras (apotropaeus), ~~grantaire (cynisme) |
WHO: Grantaire & Enjolras
WHAT: It's about orange juice, and then it isn't.
WHEN: [backdated] Thursday, December 19th
WHERE: Grantaire's place
STATUS: Closed, logged and to be completed in comments.
WARNINGS: Low, there is a fire hazard for a hot minute.
Enjolras had made it a point to not step into Grantaire's apartment after their first horrific interaction. He tended not to go seeking out Grantaire either, for the rationally-concluded habit that they fought with such unbridled intensity when they spoke to one another. Without the cause or politics standing in the way, their arguments cut deeper and more personal than the usual 'I'm right, you're wrong' back and forth. And for that alone, Enjolras did not go seeking out Grantaire. But that did not mean, Grantaire had abstained from seeking him out, drunk or not. Which was how the whole thing started in the first place, hadn't it? It was why Enjolras was now finding himself somewhat concerned over the well-being of the cynic, because Enjolras was the last person to see him before this "cold" had taken route. Coupled with Eponine's words over the past few days, and Enjolras was now feeling a sort of responsibility for the whole situation. He wasn't oblivious that things were tense, Enjolras just tended to ignore them until someone pointed it out—and Eponine had done a good job of that. Enjolras spent far too much time researching cold symptoms—while also simultaneously buying a large amount of orange juice as a preventative treatment for himself. Decidedly he purchased a can of chicken soup, and after many pointed, intense questions that had made the pharmacist shutter away, Enjolras obtained a bottle of nyquil—since he was sure Grantaire took little care to do such things for himself. Untreated illness could only lead to something worse, and Enjolras was sure that his medicinal treatment was only alcohol. With items in hand, he trudged up the stairs to Grantaire's apartment, after knocking on Eponine's door while she was at work to find no answer. Enjolras raised his knuckles a few times, before dropping his hand, wondering how to approach the situation. Hesitation wasn't his forte so he merely twisted the knob and walked in; Enjolras was unusually sure that the door would be unlocked. It always was. It was a short walk down the hallway—the empty alcohol bottles making him frown. The first opening to the living room cast a shadow of a person, and he was thankful that Grantaire was actually awake, and not slumped over somewhere in the apartment. He sighed, loud and disappointed. He should have been in bed, if he was claiming the sickness he did on the network. Enjolras was ready to scold him. "Why are you not—" Enjolras started to say, the reprimand lost in his throat upon seeing Grantaire... and his art. |