This is my patch

[petitgamin]

Who| Gavroce and whoever
What| Arrival and exploring
Where| training area
When| Day of his arrival
Warnings/Notes| N/A yet

He was taken out of the room after the test - he thinks it was a test but he's not really all that sure. He followed behind the talll, imposing people, keepin' his mouth shut as they directed him into that box thing they'd lead him into before. He didn't like the boc thing, it moved strangely and made his stomach feel all funny, and it did enough of that anyway.

He was given a room though, and as he held the card he couldn't help but eye them up. No one just gave someone a room. There had to be a catch, there was alwayus a catch. What did he have to give them in return for the room? He poked a dirty finger on the clean sheets covering the bed, surprised at the softness he felt there. He was left alone, standing in the middle of the room, looking around as if he'd never seen anything like it before.

"Well, enough o' tthis," he muttered to himself, pocketing the card and making his way out of the room, and out of the building. Time to get to know this new city; maybe he could find a way home to Paris.

Comments

[makeflowersgrow]

Eponine had been out and about after the night before. Her head still ached from the huge wig and the ropes of lights she had had to wear - and all the alcohol she had consumed to make herself forget. For now, her hair was still scraped into the tight top-knot that Valeria had made her wear beneath the wig the night before, though she had donned more comfortable clothes - a baggy, high necked t-shirt and a wide, dull skirt to hide her body.

She walked without purpose - just walked. And then - surely she knew that little boy? Surely she knew that bright blonde hair and that cheeky little face. She stopped, a look of horror on her face. And then she began to run towards him

"GAVROCHE? GAVROCHE? Is it you?"

[petitgamin]

Gavroche turned at the sound of his name being called, trying to see if he could recognise anyone who would know his name well enough to call it. There was someone coming towards him who was .... well he supposed they were sort of recognisable but he couldn't place it, not at all

"'Ere, 'ow you know me name?"

[makeflowersgrow]

"Gavroche?"

Eponine's face was a picture of confusion as she came closer. "It's me, Eponine. You ain't gone soft, have you? Wot're you doin' here? When did you get 'ere? Have they taken you in yet?"

[petitgamin]

Gavroche's face is a picture. "'Ponine? But yer all clean!" He had never seen his sister clean before, at least not within his memory which probably wasn't as long as he'd like to make out but he said longer than he rememembered. "Wot you mean, gone soft? Been taken in where?"

[makeflowersgrow]

"I scrub up alrigh' don't I? I'm a proper lady."

She barked a hollow laugh. "'Ere. It's the Capitol - not Paris. Have they taken you in? Have they given you a score?"

[greatestdetectiveaward]

Javert still doesn't especially like venturing into the city alone. It's too disorganized, too foreign to him. Javert likes his world broken down into easy, cognizable pieces, likes to sort them into boxes, and he doesn't have enough mental boxes for all this new information and new culture and especially all these flashing lights and people.

As such, when he does go out - this time to ask the librarian if she has even a single tome in French - he's in a particularly sour mood. His normally stony face is pursed into the slightest of scowls, and he looks upon every Capitol citizen as if he suspects them of being about to commit some crime.

He nearly runs into a little boy underfoot. He stops and brushes the encounter off his coat. "Pardon."

[petitgamin]

Gavroche looks up, and a grin breaks upon his face. Well, this s a face he knows well enough, yes indeed. Never thought he'd see it here of all places, not here at all. "Well, good evenin' dear h'inspector, lovely evenin' my dear!" He greeted with a wide grin. "Ain't never fought I'd see the likes of you runnin' round this place."

[greatestdetectiveaward]

Inspector. Javert's attention snaps from the crowd down to the urchin about his waist. He hasn't been introducing himself as Inspector to anyone, not since he asked to resign in disgrace.

"Do I know you?" Because for the most part, Javert knows every miscreant and their offspring in Montreuille-sur-Mer, and yet this boy's face is indubitably unfamiliar. Granted, they all look the same, street rats with their shifty eyes and wide mouths, but Javert doesn't recognize this one in particular.

[petitgamin]

"Even if you don't, I know you," Gavroche says, wondering why Javert is playing this particular game. It's a fun one to play, so he's good with playing along but still, it's confusing to the little gamin.

[greatestdetectiveaward]

"You're from Montreuille-sur-Mer?" Javert's surprised. The boy's accent sounds distinctly like the guttersnipes of Paris.

[orestes]

Wandering the city and watching its inhabitants had become Enjolras' go-to pass time in the days since his arrival. He still hadn't gotten over his morbid fascination with the locals and their brightly colored fashions, and he'd found a number of good spots where pausing and observing didn't attract undue attention back at him. It was in one of these spots --a collection of park benches a few blocks from the training center that wasn't, in his opinion at least, vast enough to be considered a park-- where he'd spotted the boy.

A pang of guilt hit him, so powerful that at first Enjolras thought he may have been hallucinating the whole thing. Gavroche hadn't actually been part of their group. He would be a casualty of the situation and one for whom Enjolras himself had never truly accounted. Children weren't meant to die for the Republic, that burden was meant to be shared only by the men who had incited the barricade. Of course, by that logic M. Mabeuf should have been spared as well. Enjolras sighed heavily, they were all equally damned regardless. Perhaps they had always been.

He watched the boy move with a boldness nigh impossible to mistake. It was definitely Gavroche, somehow here in this place. In his contemplations, Enjolras' voice returned and he called out to the gamin in a typically measured tone that wasn't altogether lacking in fondness. "They won't take kindly to your antics here, Gavroche. I still entertain the theory that they've managed to grow extra sets of eyes."

[petitgamin]

Gavroche recognises that voice, and turns with a grin, "Pretty Face!" he greets happily. "Woulda fought ye'd end up 'ere of all places." A pause. "Where is 'ere anyway?"

[orestes]

"Here is the Capitol. If it has another name, no one's been inclined to share it with me." Enjolras hadn't missed the nickname, exactly, but Gavroche's idiosyncrasies didn't need encouragement either. Honestly, he had the potential to become as bad as Grantaire and that was something Enjolras didn't need in his life. Thus, he concluded it best to ignore it outwardly and hope the boy got bored and moved onto something else. "Have you been here long?"

[petitgamin]

"The Capitol," Gavroche runs the name over his tongue. "Funny name that, fer a place." He looks around before walking over to Enjolras, hands shoved into his pockets, and shoulders sqaured. "Nah, first day, innit."

[orestes]

"It is Spartan, in a sense." It was practical and utilitarian, in title at least. The culture seemed far too hedonistic for either Enjolras' taste, or what he knew to be more classically Laconian. He studied Gavroche in his modern clothes. They looked less ill-fitting and awkward on him than they felt on Enjolras. Maybe there truly was something to the adaptability of youth. "Allow me to welcome you to the Capitol, my friend. I trust that you have heard why we are here."

[knifewithnoname]

'Pruna' was still exploring the city, keeping to the shadows, avoiding the weird people with stupid hair. She still had no shoes on, she didn't believe that stupid mans words about diseases. No one got diseases from being barefoot or half of Gauig would be dead by now.

She spotted the boy and instantly gravitated towards him. He was the most ordinary person she had seen since being left in her room, his hands and face dirty whilst everything else was scrubbed clean and weirdly colored.

She got close and hid in the shadows, curious and wanting to know more about him.

[petitgamin]

Gavroche knows when people are following him. He's got too many kids to not have picked up the skill. "'Ere, I aen't gonna bite. What's yer name?" He figures the direct approach would work as best as any. He's not exactly armed, unless you count sheer cheek, so being open and friendly seems like the best idea.

[knifewithnoname]

Pruna wasn't armed either to her disgust, they had taken her knife when they had taken her clothes. She stepped out of the shadows when he spoke though, he reminded her of the street kids she had hung about with in Gauig, and even if he talked weird he seemed harmless enough.

"I do no be tasting good." She grinned at him, "Do you be being here for the competition." She avoided the question of names altogether, she was used to dancing around that specific topic.

[petitgamin]

"...What competition?" Gavroche could forget the most important details at the worst of times. "Aen't gonna be eatin' ya, just want to know yer name. Ye got a name, don't ye?"

[knifewithnoname]

"The one they did be bringing us for, the fighting one." She told him scoffing. Though maybe he just lived here, maybe he didn't know about it. She hadn't been told to keep it a secret...

She shrugged, "What do it be mattering if I do no be having one." He eyes glinted challengingly. He was no adult, he was just a kid and she had managed to convince the kids in Gauig that it didn't matter that her and her sister had no names, she could convince them here too.

[mediumdrip]

Blaine was out in the city getting some shopping done (mostly checking out what the Capitol's music was like) when he saw Gavroce. This child was so unlike everyone else around him. He didn't have the brightly colored clothes or the clean, immaculate appearance.

Frowning a bit, Blaine found himself watching the kid just for a moment before smiling. "Hello," he said, in what he hoped was a sincere and totally non-threatening voice. "Are you lost?"

[petitgamin]

Gavroche turned. A clean person stood before him. Speaking all nice and proper like. "Bonjour, monsieur," Gavroche grinned widely, deciding the polite act was the best way to go. "Aen't lost, just learning me way around, aen't I?"

[mediumdrip]

"That's good," he said. "Are you a Tribute?" He had to be, Blaine thought. It was just he was so small... The thought of such a child being forced into the Arena hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

[petitgamin]

"Tribute's one of them fighty fins innit?" Gavroche scratched his head, before giving a nod. "Yeah, m'one of them."

[mediumdrip]

"Oh... But..." He looked down at the child, frowning. "How old are you?"