#enjxras

[courf-the-lawstud-ent]

❝ i don’t know if you have some problem with that arrangement, but also, i don’t really care. ❞ - Enjolras

Courf rolled his eyes at Enjolras’s stubbornness. “I mean, it’s likely I can get on board with it…. but good luck convincing everyone else! The whole point of having a group that believes in similar causes is spreading the work out, Enj. Not doing it all yourself!” Courf said exasperated with his friend

[the-young-rosebud]

@enjxras

Rosetta looked up from her book as someone sat across from her. “I’m sorry, can I help you?” She asked politely

[courf-the-lawstud-ent]

➜ - jehan

“Owwwwww.” Courf whined, giving his friend a wounded look. “What was that for? It’s not like I meant anything by it. And it wasn’t even that baaad.”

[lesamistheabc]

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It’s likely not a big deal, but Bossuet can’t help but be bothered by the bedbug bites. He’s not even sure if they’re bedbugs, but they’re bugs that inhabit his bed and leave little red bites all over him, so he’s decided to seek out Joly.

“Is this anything serious?”

[schattenwerfenkeineschatten]

“I can’t believe we did this again.”

"Mmm..." Claquesous didn't appear particularly interested in anything beyond lighting a cigarette.

The feeling was mutual. On the rare occasion that he allowed himself to be tempted into partnered sex, he wasn't in the habit of sharing a bed with the same person twice. Sure, it was convenient for a number of reasons. Still, the threat of intimacy was too real to ignore.

But he didn’t feel any reason to voice his views on that matter. Claquesous wasn't one for talking afterwards. Or before. Or at all.

[transparentbutimpenetrable]

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Babet was not new to life in prison, and he was most certainly not new to escaping from prison.  In fact, he probably knew the layout of most prisons and their offices better than the officers themselves.  So if he was so knowledgeable, then why had he gotten himself buckled once more?  There was a man being held away that required assistance in an escape and his wife had paid the criminal quite the sum to retrieve her husband.  Unfortunately for Babet, and moreso for the wife, the reason for the man’s inability to leave prison was due to his being in the morgue.  Apparently his cell mate had a history of issues regarding anger management.  

Since there was no longer profit to be made in staying imprisoned, Babet began to move forward with his escape.  In the courtyard, there was a small alcove between the main doors, through which the guards would corral the prisoners in and out of the building, and the entrance to the guards’ offices.  This alcove was surrounded on three sides by the building’s steep walls and contained nothing more than a drainage grating.  This would be his escape.  In broad daylight, under the supervision of the guards, none were the wiser to realize that Babet had begun to undo the bolts of the grating.  It was simple enough.  Though, it would take at least another day or so to fully remove the bolts and remain inconspicuous.  

All was well until there appeared a shadow above him and immediately he stopped his hands.  He expected a guard, or perhaps a man of Guelemer’s stature, to confront him, but instead, he found it to be a young man.  “It would be best for you to walk away, now.  Go on.”

[the-young-rosebud]

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"I don't know. I'm not too sure about this"

[transparentbutimpenetrable]

@enjxras liked for a starter

Sometimes, he was given jobs and he was given every detail from the start.  Other times, he gave himself work.  There were other times, though rare, where a contact would hand him a small leather pouch, with a number of gold coins within.  The number told him the type of job he had been given.  Three coins.  Three meant extraction.  

Babet never chose these jobs for he was obligated to fulfill them.  Rather they were done as favors, meant to repay his clients for certain other favors.  Consider it a system of give and take.  Three coins.  The criminal set off for the red light district, knowing that his victim would have been transported to the location, prepared for his arrival.  A low-traffic bar’s cellar gave life to a place for the illegal detainment and subsequent torture of certain individuals.  

When he descends the stairs, he is met by two men, one of whom he recognizes.  A look and a smile tells him that the victim is prepared.  Babet enters the room, opening the door to reveal a dentist’s chair with a young man strapped and restrained in it.  The room is pristine.  Fluorescents and white tile.  That was enough to drive anyone mad in itself.  But the torture had only yet to begin.  “Seems you’ve gotten yourself into quite some trouble, no?  I’m only here to help you, you see.  So, let’s have ourselves a chat. Tell me what I need to know and you’ll be home and free sooner than you can say ‘Please don’t hurt me.’”