A meeting

[gardienne]

 Who: Eponine and Enjolras
What: Argot talk - or else secret languages to confuse the Capitol and a very round about way of trying to help Marius
Where: In the Common Room
When: Almost straight after Enjy's last post
Warnings: Argot? It's not swearing - it's French criminal slang. But talk of argot and talk of the Capitol and probably death...

Eponine showed up just a little bit early to her meeting with Enjolras. She had dressed in her best; a little white lace blouse and black satin shorts, with black tights and heels. Her face was made up, slightly inexpertly (she's just learning), and her hair was at least a brushed tangle. She thought she looked nice. She hoped that Enjolras would notice her effort. As gracefully as she could, she sank into a chair and asked an Avox for a bag of salt and vinegar crisps - one of her favourite new foods. And then she waited, munching steadily.

Comments

[orestes]

Enolras was unaccustomed to being late. He'd hurried from his rooms in the District Five suits with little regard for his appearance, but there were conversations happening to which he felt he'd needed to attend. People needed to consider the events happening around them. He found Eponine easily enough, walking up to her with a typical sense of somewhat sanctimonious urgency that although he was conscious of, particularly here among the other Tributes, avoxes, and the rest of their attendants, he couldn't be bothered to hide. She had suggested way to help his cause and that was, frankly, more important than any appearance of contrition for his opinions.

"Mademoiselle... Eponine, isn't it?" Extending his cuffed hand, he greeted her with a polite incline of his head. "Are those the crisps you mentioned?"

[gardienne]

She took his hand uncertainly, unsure whether she was supposed to greet him as an equal.

"You remembered my name, Sir." She grinned. "Yes, these are crisps - they are strange things - thin and these have a thing called vinegar on them but they are nice."

Not that she offered to share. She was still very much in a dog-eat-dog mindset.

[orestes]

He didn't miss the lack of courtesy, but he didn't take offense either. Despite Enjolras' privileged background, he'd spent enough time observing the people of Paris that her protectiveness was entirely familiar to him.

"I remember many things." Giving her hand a firm shake, he took the chair across from her, leaning in to display his interest in their meeting. "For example, I remember that you mentioned something I might helpful."

Whoops. Might have got mixed up about convos they're having there!

[gardienne]

Eponine nodded. "To speak as you did, Sir, is dangerous. I have been here longer than you. Believe me, I know. They have killed so many tributes in their arenas - and they have not come back. Even Monsieur Javert. Sir, it is dangerous here. And you must learn to speak as I can, and be invisible here. Or perhaps, not invisible. But at least so your words are hushed."

Eponine had leaned in closer to Enjolras, at first hesitating about invading the man's personal space. But urgency overtook her - the need to keep Marius safe - if Enjolras should be hurt, than Marius would step to the fore, this she knew, for the way she had seen them, she knew that the gentlemen were friends, and was that not what friends did? So she leaned forwards and almost whispered her pleas.

"There are words I know, that perhaps you have heard from home, but do not understand. It is not a language for men like you. It is for women like me, and murderers and thieves and all that is bad. But it is not a common language - it is not spoken by many - and nobody knew what we were saying. It is called Argot, Sir. It is the language of the slums."

No worries. My fault for letting it go so long between tags.

[orestes]

Weeks ago, the proximity with a woman would have bothered him. Valeria's advances, however misguided, and Venus' entirely too modern nature had done well to change that. Instead of feeling improper or perhaps even threatened by her sex, he barely even perceived it. Instead, she appeared as little more than a willing ally.

"I know of Argot. In many ways it is not dissimilar to Occitan." They both had routes in Latin, more so, at times, than even French. Argot had evolved however beyond its routes, and while he'd encountered it enough as it was whispered in the constricted alleys of Paris, he didn't know where to begin making sense of it. Her invitation was, well, inviting. And logical. While the point of his discourses were to rally the people, she was entirely correct. His words would eventually lead to trouble and at a certain point he would need to communicate outside the observation of the Capitol.

"I would find it unreasonable to allow one group to define a language's legacy. Perhaps if you taught it to more men like me, it would be used by more than murderers and thieves."

[gardienne]

"I do not know this Occitan, Sir. But I know Argot. Know it like the back of my hand - better than French almost, and English; that I know only a few words of. Here, I do not understand how everyone understands, for Monsieur Howard says that he cannot speak French."

But that is a dilemma for another day. She knows she can communicate in French. Did Alex not speak it to her? And Draco had hissed it in her ear as she died. Which meant that speaking Argot was possible here. Still, she had to smile, and smile sadly, at his statement, as noble as his intentions had been.

"Do you not see, Sir? Here, we are all thieves and murderers, every one of us. I am afraid, Sir, as I did when I was a child of eight or nine, you have lost your status and you have to act now, to live. It is naturally your language, for we are all like me and my family now."

She began to laugh then. Just a little. Her hoarse voice rang with mirth as she chuckled bitterly, laughing at him, mourning their position, what could not be.

[orestes]

He recoiled at the sound. It wasn't pleasant, as the laughter of his friends and even that of their mistresses had been. Rather it was harsh and could barely be called laughter at all. Almost immediately, he straightened his posture, turning back to her with a sort of ingrained courtesy. He hoped she didn't notice.

"I must protest, Mademoiselle Eponine. The only thieves and murderers among us here are those who force us to fight in the Games, and those who do not need to be forced at all. Morals are impossible to maintain under such circumstances and anyone who would hold judge himself for attempting to survive should perhaps reevaluated his indignation." Which was easier said than done, of course. Lady's death had been entirely an accident, but he couldn't help but hold himself responsible all the same. Furthermore, he couldn't imagine purposefully taking a life even now and it was hardly as though his hands were clean. Rather the contrary and Enjolras feared that the face of the man he'd looked in the eye and executed would forever be on his consciousness no matter the necessity of the action.

"But all of that is neither here nor there. This is not for philosophy but rather for practicality. And, if you help me with Argot, I shall help you with English. If you like, of course."

[gardienne]

She found it hard to follow what he was saying. Always he spoke in such lilting sentences and used such words and... and her attention drifted. So she ignored what she could not follow.

"You do not need to call me 'Mademoiselle', Sir. We both know that I am not of that station. I am just plain 'Ponine, Sir, to everyone."

Everyone being remotely polite to her at any rate.

"Will you really teach me English? I would like to speak him as you and Monsieur Marius do. I will teach you Argot, Sir. It is hard though, you know?"

[orestes]

"As you wish, 'Ponine, but please call me by my name as well." He stumbled over the nickname slightly, unaccustomed to the informality. Everyone was, to him, Citizen, or Monsieur and Madame. Her insistence on anything else was in itself unique. "And yes, I will teach you English. It's only fair that we should help each other."

It was difficult not to smile sadly at that. Somehow Enjolras suspected this girl wouldn't understand much of fairness, at least not his definition of it. "I am a fast learner, I assure you. I promise to be a very good student."

[gardienne]

"But you are a gentleman, Monsieur." She laughed her grating laugh. "It is not done for you to be called so by a woman like me." She was always careful of class boundaries, always very much aware of her place in the pecking order of life. Unfortunately, that happened to be at the bottom - but she had accepted that a long time ago.

"Is it fair? I do not mind, Sir. I was not expecting anything in return. It is enough to know that you will be safe."

You being Marius, of course. Enjolras she couldn't give a joss about. But helping him meant helping Marius so she would help to the best of her ability.

"I am more clever than I look, I promise, Sir. I can read and write you know - no mistakes. And I know some numbers too. I know loads of things. I could have been a student like you."

[orestes]

"You could have been a student like me, and it is because of that that I must insist we consider each other equals." His speech sped involuntarily making the otherwise polite insistence into something more of a demand. It was frustrating to think that even here where everyone like them were regarded as less than, she refused to let go of ties to such silly, arbitrary things like the French classes. Couldn't she see that it was all infinitely more meaningless here than it had ever been in Paris? And even then, Enjolras would have argued against it, died for the abolition of it. "You know of my beliefs, I think. There is nothing other than the opportunities presented to us which make me any different from you. There is no merit intrinsic to our birth or station that cannot be overcome through education or should be held over the merit we share together by simply existing."

Pausing, he shook his head realizing that perhaps grand soliloquies on egalitarian philosophies probably weren't appropriate given the context. Perhaps Venus was correct and he did have a problem with brevity, or a certain lack thereof. "Moreover, in this situation, you are to be my teacher and teachers are always owed my respect. So please, call me by my name and I shall offer you the same courtesy."

[gardienne]

"Equals?" She was enchanted by the idea, and her face lit up.

"Do you really think so, Sir? Enjolras?"
It was a hard habit to break, the use of formal titles in place of names - and one that Eponine was bound to lapse into more often than not. But Enjolras' words had given her a HUGE confidence boost, and she smiled shyly at him.

"When shall we begin, Enjolras?" She rasped her laugh again, so thrilled she was to not use a title - to be equals with this man. Perhaps - if she was equal to Enjolras, perhaps Marius would look at her properly?

[orestes]

"When I studied English, we began with colors. Latin, with numbers. I think that most systems of study begin with something basic like that." The shyness and unsure quality to her smiled didn't escape him, but he felt confident enough that his point had been made. And he truly did mean every word. Even were such things as titles not counter to his Republican ideals, they really were equals in this situation. Their relationship was mutually beneficial with neither holding more or less over the other. In essence, it was an ideal contract, one of which he was please to be apart. "Perhaps, though, it might be useful to know how it is pronounced. Are the words more similar sounding to French or to English?"

[gardienne]

"It is French, Sir. All of it is French - old French, sometimes and other languages, and words that are changed. But not every word, Sir. Not often colours and such. It is designed so you may speak French - but them a word changes then and again and it will confuse people and they will not understand."

She bites her lip. "Sir, you must remember it is the language of criminals. The words are for things that people like me want to keep secret. Shall I say a sentence, and you will see?"

She pauses, thinking. "'Antan, j'ai ete a la ecole.' Sir, how do you translate this?"

(please ignore my lack of accents. I dunno how to put them on on these comments.)

[orestes]

"You were..." He trailed off, making sense of the phrasing. It was familiar and yet certain pieces were illogical and ill-placed given what seemed such a simply sentence. "You were at the school? There is a word which I do not recognize, Eponine. You shall have to explain it to me."

Enjolras frowned, though in a way that was thoughtful rather than angry. There was a challenge to this language and being challenged by something (almost) academic was a welcome normality given their circumstances. The similarities to French were fascinating and undoubtedly practical when he truly considered it. If someone were to hear this on the street in Paris, they wouldn't think twice about the sound, or likely even realize anyone was speaking another language around them. Rather, this Argot was almost a code instead of a language.

[gardienne]

"Exactly so. It sounds as if I tell you I went to school. Well, we both know this is not true. We use l'ecole to mean prison, sir."

She lowers her voice more and more as she explains so she is only just above a whisper. Eponine grins though. She loves to feel more intelligent than people. She loves having someone listen so intently.

"And there, you see? L'ecole we use for a women's prison, like la Madelonnettes, where no sentance is long. We use la College for La Force, where my Pa was, or the one where Ma is being held. They are bigger, with really bad sentances. La Madelonnettes has murderers but only on remand until there is space in La Force. 'Antan' means last year. So you see, it is a language to make us look innocent and to confuse Monsieur Javert."

[orestes]

Antan, old, yore. Her explanations were logical, and he nodded along, wishing for a scrap of paper on which he might take notes. Still, as they were attempting something to deceive the Capitol, perhaps such notes were inadvisable and it was fortunate that he was unable to take them. It really was a code, then, and he would simply have to do his best to memorize its double meanings.

How interesting that she was so fixated on Javert. Enjolras didn't know the man very much outside of his presence at the barricade, but Gavroche had known him. Perhaps his entire family had a history with their spy. And, actually, given the shockingly forthright nature of the Inspector, especially for a spy, Enjolras didn't doubt for a second that he'd be deceived by such a language.

"Antan, j'ai ete a l'ecole," he repeated softly, tapering the harsh phrasing a little bit to fit perhaps slightly better into his own voice. "Will you teach me another? Or explain more words?"

[gardienne]

"It already sounds well on you, Sir. You will be able to speak my words yet. And you can change it how you want."

The harshness suited Eponine, with her hoarse voice and unrefined manner of speaking. But, no. On Enjolras' tongue, it did not sound natural. She paused, thinking of another sentence she could say.

"Vous bonnai-je plus? Ah, mais oui. Nous allons avoir un bavarde et vous pouvez commencer a pige ce que je dit."

She grinned expectantly at Enjolras.

"Do you understand, Sir? Only - nod if you do. It is not good to say it aloud, really, or we shall be overheard and it will be no good anyway. Sir?"

And, after a slight hesitation, she leaned right over to him. One hand went to his shoulder, the other on the bar between them so that she could balance, half stood on the foot rest of the chair, to put her mouth right up to his ear.

"We must go somewhere, Sir. Where they cannot find us, for me to teach you. Or they will listen. And - I am sorry, Sir. We must pretend that we are friends - or we shall not be believed. You see that, no? That you must pretend to like me for them not to suspect us?"

(translation: Shall I tell you more? Ah, but yes. We will have a chat and you will begin to understand what I say.)

[orestes]

He nodded finding that he did understand, more or less. Some of the word were different, but if one didn't consider them literally, they fit. More or less.

"I do not have to pretend to like you, Eponine." He rose from the lounge's cushy chair, offering her his arm. "We might not know each other very well, yet, but I suspect we will when all of this is done. And remember, please use my name."