They thought he was a goner

Pleased was a relative term. If anything, Enjolras felt smug regarding their trickery. It wasn't just to keep Courfeyrac frustrated; the longer he could keep his friend away from Cinderella, the better chance she had of reconsidering and avoiding them both an entanglement that could end in nothing but awkwardness. He wouldn't forsake Courfeyrac, of course, but he needed her and the man's libido could be sacrificed for that. There were other attractive women in Panem.

Thus it was definitely with a certain satisfaction, rather than overt pleasure, that he returned to their table in the corner with a bottle of moderately priced wine. It would ease Courfeyrac's foul temper, make Joly less hysterical, and even perhaps get Marius to contribute something to the discussion. Imbibing in this particularly situation was, perhaps, entirely necessary.

"Your theatrics ensured that it took them some time to revive you. We have been very patient, all things considered." His tone was thick with derision. Courfeyrac had no intention of sleeping tonight even if they did let him go. He really should just tell them the truth, they all knew him better than that. Absently, Enjolras divvied up the wine, determined to pay no heed to his friend's complaints.

Now that, thought Joly, was something of a low blow. More than that, even, given what he had witnessed, both in terms of what Courfeyrac had been forced to do, and what had happened to him in the end. He had been pleased they had been able to get Courfeyrac out with them at one point, but now? He very nearly wondered if he ought to take that back.

Perhaps, smoothing things over a bit may help instead, he thought, kicking Enjolras a little underneath the table. He may not have Combeferre's sphere of influence or ability to stop this sort of thing in its tracks, but he felt as if he owed it to his friends to try when things got to a state such as this may threaten.

"I think what Enjolras meant to say was that we have missed your presence greatly, Courfeyrac." He put in, smiling even brighter to make up for the other two. "See what state it has brought us to?" Though the other man did look as he he needed something of a rest at that, and it had Joly getting up a moment later, coming around behind with the intent of laying a hand upon his friend's forehead.

"May I? If you are coming down with something, which would not surprise me in THAT remake center, God knows what they do to us in there, though I mean to find out that I am better able to take precautions, it is much better we know about this. We could have your share heated at least, and that should help."

Edited 2014-03-10 06:43 (UTC)

Truth be told, Marius did not want to be present at all, preferring much more to while away the non-arena days in the quiet, peaceful gardens with Cosette. But Enjolras had practically dragged him here, and he could not find it in himself to turn him down; besides, it was entirely possible to conciliate friendships with a little bit of drink, or so he heard.

But Enjolras's less-than-amiable retort and Joly's unnecessary fretting only frazzled his nerves. Even Courfeyrac, whom he otherwise often turned to whenever he found himself trapped in a seemingly hopeless situation, irked him with his grumbling. He frowned and fixed his eyes on the movement of Enjolras's hands as he poured and distributed the wine to each of them, jaw hardened and eyes narrowed, making it look as if the moderately-priced wine had personally insulted him.

As soon as he had acquired his glass, he set it to his lips and took a deliberately slow, drawn-out sip. It was an obvious excuse not to speak up, partly because he did not trust what words would slip past his tongue if he did.

Edited 2014-03-10 14:13 (UTC)

Courfeyrac could have strangled Enjolras. He could have shed his laziness and leapt across the table and throttled the man with heavy, angry fists. Instead, he was stayed by Joly's doting and leveled by Marius' dour expression enough to resist the temptation, if only for the time being. Irritated (an understatement, to say the least,) he swatted Joly away and snatched up his glass of wine in an attempt to intoxicate himself enough to make this situation somewhat tolerable.

"I am fine, Joly, merely vexed by all this attention. Surely your actions or lack thereof are not dependent on me." He did not intend to let his misery fall to the wayside just yet, though he did spare a second to give Marius a questioning look. The sudden fear that Marius was angry with him was beginning to creep in.

"Joly worries for you, as do we all. Perhaps you could pretend to appreciate his concerns." Joly's paranoia, Marius' subservience, and Enjolras' frustrations were entirely separate issues of concern, but sometimes broad generalizations were preferable and more convenient than the particulars of absolute truth. The realization burned; it was a compromise, but a necessary one.

He settled finally, looking no more pleasant or jovial than he had been when bustling around them with the wine. If their drink hadn't personally insulted him, it seemed as if their surroundings somehow had managed it. Instead of austerity, however, he gave the impression of a somewhat petulant child. "There are many things I could ask about, my friend, but I will settle for your health. Hopefully you can assuage our good doctor's concerns, and put my own mind at ease."

And then they would begin to talk. After the rest of the café was content to imagine them making amiable smalltalk, they could actually get something done. How he missed the back room of the Musain with its private staircase and quick escape. Meeting in private here offered no better security, but there were inconveniences to an overly public life.

Yes, compromise was sometimes necessary. Which was part of the reason Joly covered up a hint of irritation at that "pretend" Enjolras uttered. Pretend though? Really? When all that he was was concerned? Courfeyrac's irritated waving off he could accept to some degree, really, and even Marius's...whatever Marius was doing just now, but Enjolras's commentary there on top of what he had already opened with?

For the first time since coming here, to this Hell, Joly wished for Bossuet or Grantaire, that one of them might join him in making something better of the preliminaries, to repair something of this evening before it became a complete disaster. What he did, instead, was take a few deep breaths befor responding.

"If you are certain you are all right, Courfeyrac, then you may sheath your claws, I will not press you now. Perhaps some rest IS all that is required. Dependent or not, we are all glad to have you back among us, that is all."

It was far from all, but the pleasantries were needed, for this point in things, if they wished to continue, as he knew only too well, so smoothing things over, and offering a somewhat forced smile around the table seemed the only way. "Come, I think we might salvage this evening after all."

Edited 2014-03-10 20:36 (UTC)

Marius had set his emptied glass down on the table with a rather loud thud at this point, and in his intent glaring at said glass he had completely missed Courfeyrac's questioning look. Worse, he was beginning to think, from Courfeyrac's response, that the man he considered his closest friend simply didn't care.

And it hurt, most of all. Courfeyrac had sworn to protect Cosette in the arena, and what had he done? Run off in search of his mistress while Cosette was left all alone, deserted and exposed to the danger that eventually led to her death. The mistress he so obviously still wished to seek, even now.

Well then, if Courfeyrac made it so glaringly clear that he preferred his woman's company over theirs, then Marius had every right to be mad about it. Resentful enough that Enjolras's irritability was a welcome sight, angry enough to completely ignore Joly's attempts at lightening the mood.

"Your mistress can wait." He kept his gaze fixed on the glass—mostly because he did not want to witness his friend's reaction, despite all—but his tone was sharp and harsh, and tinged with a feeling of betrayal.

That little outburst from Marius was enough to grab hold of Courfeyrac's attention and throttle it to its core. Slowly he began to push his chair back, and he stood, leaning over the table to stare his old dog down, eye to eye. "At last, he speaks. If you are angry with me, Marius, it is best that you air your grievances now, for I am already on my way out."

He stared at Marius for several long seconds, daring the other man to meet his gaze, but clearly the empty wine glass was a more interesting sight. That signaled that Courfeyrac should direct his attentions to Enjolras then.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my friend? Have you any critique of my performance or shall I continue on? I will not be harangued over my personal affairs by the likes of any of you." He reached for Enjolras' wine and helped himself to a swig from his glass. "I am leaving."

It had been an entirely innocent, albeit forceful attempt to take the glass from Courfeyrac. Enjolras had risen, calmly, but not without a certain amount of irritation to stop his friend. The events of their last trip to the cafe playing out all too vividly in his head, he had resolved not to let them repeat themselves. Whatever needed to be worked our between them wouldn't simply fix itself. It would require to deign to be in each other's presence for at least an evening. They used to be able to manage that, why should things be different now?

It had been entirely innocent, really. The intention didn't stop the glass from slipping, caught between their grasps pulling it in opposite directions. Wine splashed onto Enjolras' face, some of it caught in his lower hanging curls, and onto the collar of Courfeyrac's shirt. It would stain, they both knew well how wine could stain. And finally, the glass fell, shattering between them into a million tiny pieces that sparkled gold and blood red in the low lights of the cafe.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes, reaching back to the table for a napkin with which he could at least clean off his hair and face. God knows he'd be smelling it for the rest of the night. "Well now. Look what you've done. Sit back down before you destroy the whole café."

Marius and Joly were probably thankful to have been at least momentarily forgotten.

It would have been hilarious, in fact it WAS hilarious, were it not for the fact that they were surely to garner anyone's attention in here if things continued and then where would they be with the work that they had hoped to do? Joly opened his mouth to say something, and then found himself settling for gaping a little, his jaws flopping rather like a stunned fish out of water struggling to breathe.

"Perhaps we all ought to sit down, yes. Well away from all that glass. I would not have any one of you grinding that glass into your skin if that would please you." He pointed out, firm in the face of the greater issue here, though it was not entirely what he wanted to do just now.

"At the rate all of you are behaving, I would not be inclined to numb anything before I removed it. Can we not be civil for a while longer, cast aside your sour grapes," At which point Marius and Courfeyrac both got a glower by turn, "And Enjolras, that WAS a bit merlot of you."

Edited 2014-03-11 04:53 (UTC)

Marius's eyes widened in alarm at the splashing of wine and breaking of class, and that effectively silenced him for a moment. The harsh words he released had been an admittedly childish attempt to get a rise from Courfeyrac, to force him to care; had he foreseen what followed after he would not have said it in the first place. He made a wordless grab for the bottle and poured its remaining contents on his glass, more for the appearance of focusing on something than actually wanting to drink more.

But Joly's witticisms pushed him towards quite a different direction. Frowning, he returned Joly's glare with a defiant stare of his own, and downed his glass far faster than he had ever done in his life. (He hardly considers his rebirth in the Capitol as a life in the true sense of the word, however, so maybe it didn't matter.)

He winced, just a little, when he set his glass back down. He had thought the spirits would calm him, but he was still considerably annoyed with everything. And so he said, before he really had a chance to think of its repercussions, "Enjolras is right, Courfeyrac. Surely you can find it in you to stay, your contradictory demonstration in the arena notwithstanding."

He didn't care if he did destroy the whole café or drive everyone inside of it mad. They were maddening him, the whole lot of them, and Courfeyrac had no patience for any of the clever puns Joly was offering up. He wanted to hold onto his anger for a little longer.

"Ah, so it comes out. You blame me for your inability to protect your own wife. Is that it?" He wiped the wine from his shirt in a dramatic, overly emphasized fashion. "And Enjolras, you must blame me for shooting Venus as she lie there suffering. You are correct, certainly. I am at fault. I killed them both."

Courfeyrac made no move to sit down again. He instead balled his hands into tidy fists, flexing and unflexing his hands again and again. "For God's sake! Am I not allowed the same pleasures as you? Am I to be the only one playing the role of guardian? Damn you all! I cannot be the only one looking out for us in the Arena!"

His use of the word us was significant, indicating that he still thought in terms of the collective. Not that it was especially obvious at that moment, however. In that moment, he sounded quite callous. "I fed you, Marius. I guarded you and Cosette for weeks. I shared everything I had with you. But I could not trust you to survive on your own, even for thirty minutes. That speaks more to your failings than it does to mine."

"Do not bring Venus into this," the quiet warning was lost, drowned out by Courfeyrac's rampage. Instead of returning to his seat, as he had advocated moments ago, Enjolras moved to confront the other man. Were he less annoyed, less anxious to have them underway with whatever it was they were to be underway with, he might've realized that they were all simply headed to a large and involved misunderstanding. As it was, however, emotions were frayed on all sides. Tensions were high, and no amount of rational consideration would fix them. They were working around each other almost like magnets that drew to each other and then repulsed at the last moment.

It was that thoughtlessness, that instinct that led him to reach for Courfeyrac's hand, already half curled into a fist. Instead of a proverbial olive branch, however, Enjolras' touch held nothing but condemnation. He sought to head off their fight in the same way one would scold a spoiled child having a fit. "I would have shot her myself had I been there. Marius knows that there was nothing you could do. We are all murderers here. Now for God's sake, sit down so that we can do something to change that."

The entire thing was escalating insanely quickly, Joly thought, and felt his chest starting to tighten, of all things, particularly as Enjolras rose and started moving toward Courfeyrac. Tensions were high indeed, and they were high in a way that it did not seem likely he would be able to repair by any amount of reason. That did not mean he was not going to try, and he found himself jumping to his own feet, in spite of their leader's instruction to Courfeyrac.

For now, if he was able, perhaps, to insert himself between the pair of them, he might head things off a bit easier, and that would do MUCH to improve this. He dared not come close enough to startle either of them, but did insert himself behind Courfeyrac a bit, with a close enough distance that he MIGHT be able to haul him back if needed. He hoped he might at least, and his move may have been stupid, but simply sitting there was going to accomplish nothing. Nor, apparently was saying a damned thing.

"Might ALL of you..." he started, then he stopped, aware of the futility involved in it. Besides, all right, a very twisted little part of him did wish to see how it played out.

Marius's jaw dropped at Courfeyrac's words. He wanted to yell something in return, because how dare he? Marius did everything as humanly possible to protect Cosette; he died fighting for her life in the arena.

But an aching pang squeezed at his chest and suffocated the unkind words before they left him, leaving him to simply stare at Courfeyrac with a wounded, disbelieving look in his large eyes. And he realized that the accusation stung so harshly because it was the bitter truth. He was incompetent. He couldn't tell poisonous plants from edible ones, couldn't set traps without hurting himself, couldn't tend to anyone's wounds.

He wanted to save everyone, but how could he? He was incapable of doing anything right.

The feelings of shame and guilt and inadequacy, the hundred voices of conversations across the cafe, the incessant noise both outside and within him, had all become too much to endure. The legs of his chair scratched audibly against the floor as he jerked out of his seat, every intent to walk out of the café visible in his body language. He would need to scoot around Enjolras to do just that, however, and so he made a move for the tiny opening behind the other man.

"Let go of me," Courfeyrac growled at Enjolras. With Joly sneaking behind him, he felt more and more that he was being surrounded, suffocated, and betrayed. Were they all in agreement with Marius? Was this their act of condemnation? He had failed them. He had failed them all, even Cindy, in the end. And for what? To face a guillotine. To face execution in the most over the top and befitting way. It was all he deserved, ultimately. "And you, stay where you are. If I must stay, so must you!"

Enjolras only had one of his hands, however, and Courfeyrac was lucky in that he still had the other at his disposal. He made his move then, not in an attempt to hit Marius, but in a show to force him to stay. He meant to grab the other man and prevent him from creeping out behind Enjolras. Instead, hindered by the close proximities of both Enjolras and Joly, Courfeyrac's swift and graceful gesture instead came out as a clumsy jerk. Once it had started, it could not be stopped, and instead of grabbing Marius, he instead managed to strike Enjolras just at his eye socket.

Once that happened, there would be no deescalating the situation. It was, as they say, going down.

He felt more than saw Courfeyrac's hand connect with his face. It wasn't as if he'd never been hit before, but this was different. This wasn't a schoolyard bully, or some drunken louse; this was his friend, one of his best and truest friends. How had they come to this?

In another moment, on another day, Enjolras might have been content to wallow in self-contemplation. Perhaps that would have been better. As it was, however, he stumbled backward into Marius, the impact smarting, angry and red around his eye. With effort rather than thought, he picked himself up again, closing the difference between himself and Courfeyrac again with purpose.

It would have been better to think about his actions and their wider context, to assess the situation for what it was. It would have been better to consider the consequences that might follow. May thinks probably would have been better than lifting his arm, hand already curl tightly into a fist, and taking an equally purposeful swing at Courfeyrac's nose. He felt the now too familiar smack of flesh connecting to flesh, and cartilage yielding to hard bone, and he would have been lying to say that he didn't hope it hurt just as bad as the smack to the eye.

Yes, yes it WOULD have been better to think, for both of them, but, clearly, such had not been the case and now Courfeyrac's nose had made the sound that said that it was broken.

"Enjolras!" Joly hissed, feeling his chest tighten even further, though he tried to ignore it, passing a bit of breathlessness off as a little cough. This was not the TIME for him to panic, this was the time for him to do something about his friends, if possible.

Tugging at Courfeyrac, to pull him away and get a look at his face was something of an attempt that he could make, even as the cafe grew hotter, and seemed to shrink around him.

"Marius, if you would please." He rasped out, jerking his head toward Enjolras, indicating he'd appreciate some help in restraining him.

"Come now, you've both exchanged a blow, need this duel go any further?"

The collision came as a surprise to Marius, and he staggered backwards, the back of his leg hitting against a stool in the process and sending him sprawling against a table. He could only stare for a moment in utter surprise and confusion, cringing at the sickening crack that followed a punch, wondering how it suddenly came to this.

He was abruptly made aware of the turning of heads and the exclamations of surprise, hooting and cheering, and a random cajoling yell of "Yeah, deck him!" and for a fraction of a second he wanted to retreat and make himself as small as possible. But then he heard Joly's order, and he sprung to his feet and reached for Enjolras, attempting to hook his arms underneath the other man's and pull him back.

Edited 2014-03-12 03:02 (UTC)

Enjolras' fist had come so quickly that Courfeyrac lacked the chance to even try ducking or dodging. Instead, he found that he was doubled over by the sharp pain and the sickening realization that his nose was indeed broken and that he was now covered in his own blood in addition to the wine. He was, officially, a complete mess.

And he was bleeding onto Joly as well, hissing in pain as his friend seemed to poke and prod at him incessantly. He spent a single solid second letting Joly stare him in the eyes before he suddenly pulled away from the other man and lunged at Enjolras again, with a vengeance. Thankfully, Marius was doing Courfeyrac the favor of restraining him from behind and making the task all the more simple.

He struck with his dominant fist this time and aimed right for Enjolras' mouth.

Intellectually, he'd known that the sound of bone against flesh against cartilage would be different from the sound of bone against flesh against teeth, but a priori knowledge only lends itself to so much use in a fight. Knowing was, after all, not the same thing as experiencing, and so dumbly, he reflected on the sound of the impact rather than its sensation. It was probably a manifestation of the suddenness and shock, probably something that would only intensify the pain later.

Secondary to the newness of the experience was the knowledge that someone, that Marius, was holding him back, keeping him from his natural right to self-defense. As Courfeyrac's fist retreated from its work, Enjolras doubled his struggle.

It was difficult to keep Enjolras from accomplishing something once his mind was set on less pressing matters, holding him back in a fight was not something to be easily accomplished. Once free, he rounded on Marius, preparing to backhand the boy (for he certainly didn't merit being called a man in that moment).

It was necessary to restore order. It was necessary to avenge such an egregious betrayal. Although honestly, given Marius' politics, Enjolras should have known he wouldn't be able to pick a side.

There WAS no restoring order, and Joly was left to watching things descend into madness as Courfeyrac's blood spilt on him and Enjolras turned on Marius instead and his allies in this world that he barely knew all seemed to turn upon each other at once while he could do NOTHING at all to prevent it. It was the sort of living hell he had imagined when the rules of the arena were explained, but so much worse now that it was happening in the light of day, and in a place where they were meant to be safe.

And the worst part of all of this was that now he seriously had not the breath to contest any of this further, and simply found himself starring at that blood, the blood of brothers that should never have been spilled in so petty a cause as this, and tried his best to scrub it from his scrambling hands, even with nothing to clean them here. The world had mostly vanished into that small bubble, the blood on his hands, the attempts to scrub it away and the attempts to breathe that were becoming secondary to the rest of this somehow.

Before today, Marius had never desired to physically harm anyone.

So stunned was he at the events that followed his attempts to restrain Enjolras that when the man struggled, he released him with little resistance. Which was why he was baffled when Enjolras had suddenly faced him, and failed to deduct the intent behind the raised hand. Until he felt the sting against his cheek, his head snapping to one side from the impact.

He blinked, dazedly stared at the surface of the table for a second or two. And then he felt his heartbeat rise and his fists clench.

Had it been anyone else, he would have been capable of restraining himself. But this was Enjolras, one of the people he trusted, the best man at his wedding, and that upset him more than anything else. The enmity he had forcefully buried deep into the darkest corners of his mind, ever since Enjolras's very public questioning of his and Cosette's wedding, erupted into the surface, rearing its ugly head, causing his jaw to clench and his fists to tremble.

And the incessant, parasitic thought that had implanted itself in his head during the last arena echoed in his thoughts again: For whom all you think to be by your side may not truly be so at all.

Marius would never deal a blow on simply anyone. But he would take a jab at Enjolras.

So he raised a fist and he took a swing, aiming for Enjolras's cheek, but not really caring where it actually landed.

Courfeyrac clutched his bloody fist to his stomach, wincing and cursing from the pain of striking Enjolra's teeth. He was so distracted by the shooting sensation that he very nearly missed the next exchange of blows, and the next one. As it was, he found that he was instinctively slinking toward Joly in search of physical support, grasping at the man, ignorant of his feeble attempts to scrub away the blood.

"Are you finished?" He barked at last, wiping his nose on his sleeve. A red stain spread over the fabric, further ruining it. Courfeyrac didn't notice it. He didn't notice the involuntary tears which had sprung to his eyes either. "Is that out of your system or shall we have another round?"

The commotion between the four of them had fully captured the attention of the other patrons now. There would be no way to play this gently. Their stupidity had been observed, noted, and was likely already being disseminated to the Capitol outside. The damage had been done and there would be no retractions possible tonight. Courfeyrac felt a shade remorseful for that, as he had genuinely enjoyed the cafe. However, he felt even more remorse directed at the three sorry looking faces closest to him. He very nearly could have set his anger aside and pulled the three of them to him in a massive embrace. He refrained, on the grounds that they all seemed so shocked and angry that any of them could have gone off at any moment should he make a sudden move toward them.

Holding tight to Joly still, he exhaled in dramatic fashion, motioning that Marius and Enjolras should come closer. "You've done your worst. Now let us call a truce. Poor Joly looks a fright over here."

Admittedly, his first instinct after regaining his vision from Marius' attack had been to retaliate. How dare any of them behave this way? The indignation of it all was palpable and overwhelming. Miraculously, however, Courfeyrac's words made it through the haze in his head. He breathed deeply, feeling for the first time the bruise developing around his eye, and tasting the blood seeping into his mouth from some cut or another. He must look a mess.

But that was surely nothing compared the the mess of Joly, held tightly to Courfeyrac. "What's wrong with him?" he inquired, voice ragged from the explosion. His lip stung, the effort of forming the words making the split in his lip truly apparent. That was where the blood was coming from. One mystery had been solved.

"Did either of you hit him?" Enjolras inquired after another slightly pause. His expression was baffled rather than accusatory. After all, he could remember Courfeyrac hitting him, and then Marius, and Enjolras could envision himself attacking both of them, albeit not without a certain amount of embarrassment, but Joly had been far from the center of the fray. It was difficult to imagine how he'd gotten involved even accidentally.

Around them, the patrons of the cafe seemed disappointed by the abrupt end to the action. Of more concern than their disappointment, however, was the anger of their waitress and of the barkeep in the corner. They had erred, that much was becoming apparent.

"Not...Courfeyrac's blood." Joly managed, as things slowed down, to get enough air back to speak a little.

"So much of it." he added, and the frentic look there was nothing short of reminiscent of some kind of terrified animal. It was different when one was prepared, but to have something like this tossed at him out of nowhere? Not the best of things.

Courfeyrac had already seemed as if he might be a little ill, and it could well be possible to catch something through whatever cells lurked through his blood. The last thing that Joly wanted, besides this fight at least, was to end up ill and having to consult with the doctors here, whom he did not trust in the least. He already felt himself out of breath though, and coughing, which signaled something of a death knell in the circumstances.

"Slap me please." He requested, as he could. "No use to anyone until... And I will not allow any of you near THEM." He was not convinced the Capitol doctors were not butchers, after all, and the panic was reflected in his voice, something of the accent that he tried to cover slipping out. Oh God, his chest...his HEART was pounding so much he could hear it in his ears. If this was not just panic, but his heart about to give out in an attack, well...

Was it just him or were the edges of the room a little blurrier than before?

As that had just been Marius's first time hitting anyone with a fist, he had not expected the pain that went alongside it. He bit back a yelp and clutched his hand close to his chest with his uninjured one. He had most likely fractured a bone—but that concern paled in comparison to the abrupt worry once he spotted Joly in such a state.

With his injured hand still pressed close to himself, he took a tentative step towards Joly, his mouth opening and closing without a sound coming out for a moment, until he managed an awkward, guilt-filled, "I-I do not think slapping you will—"

improve anything; not that he was trained as a doctor himself, and not as if he had time to finish that sentence, for someone had just grabbed at his arm and roughly pulled him aside. The glance he cast over his shoulder held a mild irritation until he recognized the man as the barkeep, and his eyes grew round in horror.

He was all of a sudden conscious of the numerous pairs of eyes on them, and all he could do in response was utter a cry of half-protest, half-embarrassment, as the barkeep pushed him towards the exit.

Courfeyrac himself was about to oblige Joly's request when he too was forcibly grabbed by some sort of cafe personnel. After sputtering a few choice words of protest, he found that he too was being dragged toward the door.

"This is quite uncalled for!" His shouts were loud above the din of the gathering crowd. "We can escort ourselves out, thank you! Come, my friends! Let us take our business elsewhere!"

Bitterly, he shot Enjolras an annoyed glance over his shoulder as the employee promptly deposited him outside. "That includes you, Enjolras. And grab my hat for me before you exit."

Perhaps it was that with the developing black eye and bloody lip he seemed well enough subdued that the employees need not bother him, or perhaps it was some misplaced courtesy owing to the regularity with which he frequented the cafe. He couldn't say. Either way, however, Enjolras was able to retrieve Courfeyrac's hat before following glumly behind his friends.

Outside on the street, they made for an even sorrier sight. In the low lights all of their injuries looked somehow worse. Even Joly's breathing seemed more ragged to him.

"Well then, I suppose I shan't be allowed back there any time soon." Which was a shame, really. He frowned, no longer in anger. In fact, if he were being honest, he would say that it was more of a pout. Honesty was, however, one of the more taxing virtues.

Luckily, well, not so luckily in terms of what they were losing, but luckily for Joly's nerves, being herded outside did help a little, to clear the worst of the panic from his mind. Not that he was not still scrubbing at his bloodied hands, but he was a bit more aware now as he glanced at each of his friends in turn, shaking his head a little as he tried to will his breathing back to normal.

"I should...think not." He rasped at Enjolras, and managed, in spite of everything else, to sound fairly disapproving of the whole thing. "none of us at that."

And while he had received and given no blows, he suddenly felt as exhausted and bedraggled as the rest of them looked at this moment.

If Marius had spontaneously combusted that very moment the door slammed shut on them, leaving them outside the dimly-lit streets, it would not have surprised him. He felt as if his entire body was on flame. Dear God, how many people had been a witness to the embarrassing lack of restraint he had displayed? What would Cosette say if word of it came to her? He would die if she rejected him on such grounds.

He pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to calm down. No, he would control himself, although he feared it may be a little too late for an exercise on self-discipline.

When he opened his eyes, they landed first on Joly, and once again he was overcome with a heart-piercing regret. His worried gaze then flitted, first to Enjolras, then to Courfeyrac.

"But Joly is..." Once again a sense of incompetency overcame him, and he looked at them as if pleading to direct him to do anything, anything at all that was useful. He didn't want to be a burden anymore. He didn't want to be worthless.

"Joly will recover." Courfeyrac was very insistent on this point, taking his hat back from Enjolras and tugging it into place. He wasn't so much embarrassed as he was concerned for his own vanity. Truth be told, he instantly felt better about this entire situation, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. So Enjolras had bruised eye and bloody mouth. So Marius looked like a scolded puppy. So Joly was panting like he'd just sprinted around the block. None of that mattered to Courfeyrac. Their tensions, at least the ones he'd felt toward them, were almost instantly gone.

"We will all recover. We will go home and sleep and in the morning, we will be right as rain again." Except for his nose, which would need some tending to. And, if he was being honest with himself, he would likely not be sleeping, not with Cindy in the next room. "Until then, might I suggest we move along, otherwise we will attract unwanted attention from the passersby."

Enjolras, too, felt an odd sort of relief from the unfortunate episode. Absently, he dabbed with a sleeve at his bleeding lip. The air around them felt abruptly cold and he realized they hadn't even had enough time to remove their coats before their annoyances had gotten the better of them. Joly's breathing echoed crisply on the street, even as it slowed.

"They very likely have all of that on camera," he said, not defensively, but rather with an air of resignation. It was simply a statement of fact. "Joly will have another good story to share."

And Joly could share it, and hopefully spin it. God knows they'll need to spin it somehow.

"Of course I will." Joly agreed, nodding at Courfeyrac. "I need...a few moments but..." Stepping outside had actually helped him with calming down a bit, though the literal blood on his hands was still...somewhat disturbing, and would make things rather difficult to fix here and now.

"How badly hurt are all of you?" He added, frowning. "I think...I would prefer keeping things out of their hands if that is at all possible." He really, really did not trust the doctors here, if they were even doctors, as he had said earlier.

"I'll thank you for the story once I know that everyone is going to be all right. I think it can be worked with. Romantic drama perhaps? There must be something we can do. It all depends on what exactly you wish to take out of this."

But first, he really did want to get them patched up, and well, to clean off himself as well. His branded sanitizer, that he had been presented with on waking from the arena was not likely to be of much use alone here.

Perhaps in contradiction, instead of a burden lifted, Marius felt the disgrace and self-condemnation slowly weigh on him; it felt as if his heart had sunk to his stomach, and that his legs were made of heavy copper pinning him down to the spot where he stood.

But the suggestion of spinning a tale caught his attention enough to yank him from his current stupor, at least for a moment. He had become accustomed, somewhat, to the ways the Capitol fabricated a great many things, but hearing his friends suggest it still unsettled him. He would not have wished for them to falsify events, but what else were they to do?

He let out a short huff, meaning to tuck his hand into his pocket, before realizing that it was swollen, and folded his good hand over it instead. "I don't care, so long as Cosette is uninvolved."

And then he gave Joly an inquiring glance, wondering how exactly he was to address their injuries.

"I am fine," Courfeyrac said shortly, a blatant lie as he tried to ignore the throbbing sensation which was dominating his entire face. He didn't want anyone to fret over him, even Joly with his training and his desire to render aid.

He didn't much care for the idea of falsifying the reasons for their dispute either, but the thought occurred that their fight had been very much pushed over the edge by their various romantic entanglements. Had Marius not been so needlessly cavalier in his dismissal of Courfeyrac's attachment to Cindy, their little brawl would not have even happened. To classify it all under romantic drama seemed about on par, all things considered.

"You've already slandered me enough. What more damage can you do?" He did not actually wish for them to answer. In fact, he would prefer it if they refrained. "Say whatever you like. I do not care. Only fools would believe the lot of you."

"Slander implies some sort of malicious intent." The retort came flat, without any true feeling. Whatever methods he had co-opted to deal with life within the Capitol, lies still didn't sit well with Enjolras. They were still against his basic doctrine.

He tugged at the coat, abruptly tight against his shoulders, and breathed heavily in the cold, crisp night air. It burned his eyes and lungs and could only imagine what Hell it was playing with Courfeyrac's broken nose. Maybe Joly could do enough projection for the both of them. "What we are doing is for the benefit of all of us. You should be grateful."

"This seems more necessary evil." Joly agreed with Enjolras there, perhaps because it was something that he felt that he could manage right now, at least. He may be horrible in the arena, he may know nothing of how to repair this rift that had sprung up between them, but he could gossip like anyone's business, and he intended to do it now.

"Whatever damage that I do will indeed help us in the end. You cannot think that if there was another way, I would not take it, can you?" At least, he hoped he did not seem so shallow as all that.

Marius biting the inside of his lower lip was his only reaction to Courfeyrac's words, as somehow he could tell that his friend would much rather have him silent. He glanced to one side—at nowhere in particular, but it made him feel less uneasy, almost as if he wasn't playing a part in the conversation, much less agreeing to fabricating anything.

And it was not even as if he thought Joly was the sort of person to resort to lies; he knew he would not, if he could help it. It was simply that he had begun wondering what other necessary evils, as the other man had put it, they might resort to so long as they continued to defy the Capitol.

He shuddered and locked the idea away, along with all the other troublesome thoughts that plagued him. "You both should have your injuries tended to." It came out as a murmur, and he hoped the unspoken 'Let us not speak of this any further' was also noticed and heeded.

Courfeyrac stared at each of the others in turn for a noticeably long time before adjusting his jacket and hat, preparing to depart from them as if there were some other pressing matter to attend to. The truth was, he was still cross with all of them, now for more reason than before. But it would be a lie to say he could not understand their reasons.

"I am going back to the tower," he said, his usually pleasant face twisted into a scowl. "I will tend to myself. You worry over yourselves. I'd prefer to be alone."

He didn't quite balk under Courfeyrac's scrutiny, but it was uncomfortable to watch all the same. By the time his turn came, Enjolras had determined to meet his friend's eyes defiantly, lower lip curved into a frown. Coupled with the bruise blossoming brilliantly around his eye, and the blood staining around his mouth, the expression made him look rather like a petulant child, still bitter after a schoolyard fight. "Do what you like. We will handle things form here."

Naturally, there wasn't anywhere else to go but back to the tower. The awkward thing was that he had no intention of walking with Courfeyrac, and preferably not with Marius or Joly. He wasn't angry anymore, not even as much as his sour expression indicated, but he needed time to think.

"I am leaving. We should do this again at a later date." The declaration was forceful, mostly owing to the fact that it was forced. Adjusting his coat again against the wind, Enjolras marched off into the opposite direction from the tower knowing well enough that only Marius, if even he, would know the city enough to follow. He could take the round about way home. That would give him his time.

"Will both of you..." Joly started, then stopped as Enjolras and Courfeyrac had both already fled, leaving him to turn his attentions toward Marius instead. This, all of the evening, had gone terribly, so far as he was concerned, and he worried that another one may lead to this again.

"Another time, yes." He agreed, unable to keep from sounding dubious, or from rolling his eyes as he turned his attentions toward the only victim he could find to subject to his treatment methods here.

"Marius? Will you at least allow me to help you before I send you to your Madame looking like this?"

It simply would not do following Courfeyrac or Enjolras—Courfeyrac, mostly, as he was usually who Marius depended on—since they both seemed intent on being alone, and Marius was never one to insist or impose himself on anyone, especially since he had played a part leading them to their current predicament. And he would apologize, but that will come in time. If he remembered to the next time they meet, at least.

So there was really no one else to turn to now save for Joly, wasn't there? Thus, cradling his broken hand, he gave Joly a curt nod, his eyes fixed on the floor. "Thank you."

"Good." Joly agreed, hoping he might catch up the others later, after giving them some time for the air and space that they so obviously needed just now. He was especially worried about them making it there, but, well, there was at least one other before him, whom he could do something about helping, so, might as well set to it, right?

"Then we should get you somewhere I can have a better look. Is there somewhere other than the tower we might try? I'd rather take care of it before we try to walk back."

Marius paused for a moment, expression thoughtful, then nodded and canted his head in the direction of a certain shop he had in mind.

If Marius would have been good for anything, other than threatening to blow up a barricade, or enthusiastically agreeing to things in the rare instance that people actually wanted his opinion, it would be accidentally discovering small places and establishments often hidden in plain view. Thus, said establishments tended to attract a relatively select crowd.

So what I'm saying is: welcome to hipsterism, you gossipy bitch.

Edited 2014-04-03 14:49 (UTC)

Joly followed that direction, and nodded, following close behind Marius as it occurred to him he actually had little with him in the way of things that he could use to clean the younger man up. Still though, he could probably manage to get at least some water for cleaning, and, if need be, rip some of their clothing for bandaging and dabbing, which might work all right, considering.

Or they might get luckier and enter a shop with more supplies. At any rate, Joly definitely understood the appeal of hidden in plain view, and did appreciate that ability by far. So as far as boarding the hipster train went? Full steam ahead.

They thought he was a goner

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