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

[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."