Well, Mervin.

[jamesmcginty]

Watercolor class is pretty interesting. I don't think I'm particularly skilled, but I've produced a few pictures. I enclosed something for you. I fear there are no apples to paint. Only a hideous vase, and some rather unconvincing wax pears and rubber grapes. May it ferment gently in the mail and arrive as a slightly better vintage.

Darius is ... Darius. I haven't seen much of him, but what I have doesn't say he's improved much. We had a holiday, so he probably was off doing his thing somewhere.

R, it turns out, is pretty charming. I think he's been around here all his life, and knows the area like the back of his hand. His grades wouldn't impress anyone, but - well - some people don't do well in schools to start with. I think he's taken it to heart though.

You told me that it was bad to make yourself into what people say you are, or to say you're something you don't want to be. That positive thinking thing that's plastered all over Lorena Station.

I'm thinking positively. I haven't seen him in several days.

He's not the kind of man who just blends in, you know? Even when he's hungover and quiet or -

Yes, I'll be careful.

Love,
James

Comments

[jamesmcginty]

James was heading back from dropping his letter off in the post. The weather had been a bit foul and the school was mostly a mess of people coming down with colds or getting over them. Or getting in squabbles because just about everyone who was healthy was ill tempered.

That mostly meant he wasn't really that inclined to visit the book store or do much more than retreat back to his room. Anshar and Tom were gone for the next few days for some political thing, and prior to that were doing a small sea of work to catch up before they left. So frankly peace, tea, and something non-horrible on the radio sounded like a excellent evening.

And then he could swear he recognized someone. It was out of the corner of his eye, but the shoulder shape was right, and the height, and that sort of gingery shade to the hair might be right. R had a green coat, right? R probably had many coats. It's not like home where he could pick Mervin out easily until his coat finally got bad enough that Mervin had to get a new one.

[grand_error]

He did have a few coats, but this particular coat was one R had been wearing most of all lately, minus a good deal of the usual extra pieces to it. He could pull off the basic bits well enough without sharing the details of where he'd been or what he'd been doing. It had started with an evening trip to the drunk tank that'd turned into a little bit more when someone recognized him as hanging out with a few dangerous people from time to time, mainly a guy he'd starred at across the campus more than once, who happened to be a friend of one of his BEST friends, and then they'd tried to keep him a little longer.

At which point he'd met Pierre Bellec, a guy who was determined to get himself thrown into every prison in Paris for reasons he hadn't explained until later on. Until he'd seen R try something out and succeed at it. And then he'd been catapulted on from there into what felt like patent insanity at best. Even if they HAD both managed to get out pretty fast after he'd agreed with listening to what the man had to say.

After that... things had gotten busy. And well. He'd been quieter when he HAD showed up for class, which wasn't often. Still, he did quite like his seatmate, and had missed their conversations, and so, when he spotted him, tossed a little wave in that direction. Geez, how long had it BEEN now? Worth saying hi to James, at least.

[jamesmcginty]

"R!" James says with a grin, and then hesitates in what he hopes isn't too visible of a thing. "Or - uh - should I -"

He's looking up at R. He's not unfamiliar with hangovers, or drinking, since Mervin's family unfortunately self medicated. Heavily.

James can guess he looks a little tired. He'd had a bit of a cough from the weather, and his new coat was probably a good reason why he wasn't sick yet. He got a job adding up the books for a local business, but it did mean he was running out between class and business hours to drop off ledgers.

"It's . . . not Grantaire, is it?" And great. He's being ridiculous.

[grand_error]

"Huh?" R asks him, blinking a little bit at the question there. "Sorry, I'm not sure how to parse that." He's got a hangover headache plaguing him. At least he thinks it's a headache. It might be because he's dealing with the 'gifts' that got activated for him lately, the ones Bellec had said were special, too, but he prefers to think it's the hangover. Weird things happening in his own head is bad enough, thanks.

"It's definitely me." he adds, pulling back his hood. "And yes. R is, well, Capital R." He smirks. "I was fifteen and it was funny. And better than Raphael, which they put on my birth records. So what have YOU been up to while my life got weird? Tom get up to anything new?"

[jamesmcginty]

"Anshar got in a fistfight with Darius," James offers. "You ... kind of look miserable, R. Think you'll let me point you at the shower at the dorm?"

James reaches for his sleeve. "I was thinking of staying in with some tea and making some kind of - I don't know. Stew. A shower and some stew sound un - weird enough? Counteracting the weird?"

He's not going to ask if the him standing there wanted to be called R by James. Let's - stick with a yes and be happy about it? "I was worried about you. Glad to see you're okay."

[grand_error]

"Shower, right. THAT'S what I was forgetting about." R tries a smile, and isn't very good at making it stick. "I think I'd feel a lot better. It's been a long few...weeks? Months? I'm not sure anymore. And that's refreshingly normal. "

It'll be nice not to spend time learning how to kill or climbing various structures in Paris and hanging out underground reading texts R's not sure he gets the hang of, right? Under his gloves, it feels like his brotherhood brand is itchier than usual. Probably he was supposed to care for it properly. It's probably gotten gross and...

"If you really dont mind having me along, I'd love it."

Definitely R is what he wants to be called, yes. And he wishes he could talk about some of the rest of what's been going on. He CAN'T, of course, but...

"No need to worry. But I'm fine I swear, Good to see you are too."

[jamesmcginty]

James leans a little as they walk. "I don't mind having you along. It's a bit - the roommates are gone and my room is too quiet. Is there . . . anything else you haven't had in a while?"

It's a bit - he can feel his stomach sinking. R looks like he's feeling miserable and he smells like he was drinking. The - reassurances don't really work, do they? You don't tell someone you're fine unless you think they'd think you weren't.

"Had a bit of a cough lately, with the weather, but that's nothing new. I got a job? I mean - I got a job and they're paying me, and -" James trails off. "Let's get you in. Let me worry a little, and I'll worry less. I promise."

[grand_error]

"Anything else I haven't had in a while..." R considers it. "Took care of the first part of that last night and into the morning," Which he's pretty sure James can TELL anyway. "A chance to just sit down and have a normal conversation, if that counts." He looks pretty thoughtful about that.

It's just...been a while since things felt sane. R can't mention most of it, but let's just say the drinking was driven by a mission that went a little bit bad. Not horribly, but. Well. The first time you kill someone, and your response to it? Should probably go a certain way. His didn't. Even when it was necessary. It's easier when James mentions his cough, because he frowns a little as they head along.

"Make sure you're not working too hard if you get sick." he cautions. "I'm on a little break from the one I picked up. I know how they can get to you after a while...But okay, you can worry a bit."

[jamesmcginty]

"Yeah, I can tell. Might toss a clean shirt at you if you don't duck fast enough." James' voice is light but he's looking slightly away. "It ... about that. The drinking. You know my cousin? Can you try to not - just not do that around him? Because it's not you."

His voice trails off. "I'll be careful about not working too much. I'm s -" He really needs to stop doing that every time his mind thinks he's getting told he's screwing up.

Still he's got a list here he can work on. Get some food cooking, get R toward a shower and potentially slightly less ripe clothing. Make coffee or tea or something. Dig out the honey and lemon for his.

[grand_error]

For once, R manages to bite back the statement on the tip of his tongue, the one that points out that drinking is very much him. Instead, he nods. Sure, he can deal with being sober around a couple people in question. It's not the biggest deal in the world, and he's not being asked to quit or anything.

"I can downplay it a lot, sure." he agrees. "Just...rough night." I stabbed someone, he doesn't add but thinks it. "And good. Nothing to be sorry for, just don't want you to be sick or anything. Not exactly fun."

Eventually, he's emerging from a shower, feeling a lot better, and forgetting, once he's dressed, to put his gloves back on right away. His hands reveal the still healing brand, but they also have some minor scratches and cuts from practicing with various weapons. It'll get easier, they keep telling him. R just hopes that's soon.

[jamesmcginty]

"It's kind of -" James makes a face. "I'm pretty sure 'why Mervin won't go home' isn't normal conversation."

He does look a lot happier to see R coming out of the shower though. The dorm's got a ridiculously huge hot water tank, and with the holiday recently, the student population is pretty low right now.

James slides a bowl over and waves R to join him. "I just made something fast, but - hopefully it's good. Join me on the couch? It's nearer the furnace. No point in having damp hair giving you a cold."

It's a very cozy corner. James had a bookshelf, and a quilt covered sofa, and a low table in the main area. He offered to move it for Anshar's dance stretches, and Anshar admitted that he loved the spot too.

[grand_error]

"Ahh okay. One of THOSE situations." R makes a face. "Keep it away from Mervin." he repeats, sounding...like he actually means it. Then again, people's comfort levels ARE important to him. "For the record if that was me, I'd try to stop. I don't want to be the reason people are afraid of coming home or...anything. We've got this kid...he's probably about eight or so, well, my friend Bahorel technically. His parents are...it's a bad situation so they try keeping an eye on him and I corrupt him. I know enough to know I don't want to turn into those parents, you know?"

What might James think if he knew what kind of semi monster, even though the cause is a good one, better than he'd think, that Grantaire's become? He's hoping that never shows up as a topic of conversation. Of course, as he's picking up the bowl, his hand, and the branded left ring finger come into view without him thinking about it. He's so used to being among his Brothers now that it hasn't occurred yet.

Oops.

[jamesmcginty]

"Well, Mervin's a pirate, and he still helped me out as -" James startles and nearly drops his spoon. "R! What - let me get the first aid kit. Have you cleaned it?"

At least he's pretty confident about burns, what with his cousin showing up over the years with yavanite glow burns (eerily glowing, yes, but totally like a normal one) or simple burns from hot engine parts.

And there was the time Mervin showed up, tight jawed and quiet with a crescent moon from the handle of a hot pan on his arm and didn't talk about it.

[grand_error]

"Piracy, sounds pretty..." R starts, then winces as James reacts to that, holding his hand up quickly. "It's fine I promise. Healing." he quickly adds. "Just a controlled burn that's healing up pretty nicely." Well nicely is up for debate but it's been doing the healthy thing of crusting up and all of that. "I promise it's not bad. ...Hey, are you okay?"

[jamesmcginty]

James blinks rapidly and kind of hesitates, holding the edge of the table before slowly relaxing. "If - you're sure? I've got a burn cream that did pretty good for Mervin."

He makes a face like he's not sure that'd go over well. "I mean, hot engine bits. And he got . . . ." He trails off again.

"He had a bad one when we were younger too. So it's - I've checked burns out before?" James fumbles a bit with his spoon and tries to not stare at R's hand.

[grand_error]

"It might help a little." R allows. "I'm supposed to keep most of it but the skin around's been pretty awful." He considers "And I can always rub it with some sandy soap later, to keep it gritty. Long story, but it's a Sign. I made it. Uh at my job that is. It's Symbolic."

Too much? Probably. Oops.

[jamesmcginty]

James looks decidedly dubious about the idea of a Symbolic burn, but he's getting up to dig out some of his options. "That might help numb things a bit, and cut down on the skin around it being so irritated. You can keep them? I can always buy some more, and they're almost empty."

His hands are not exactly steady as he retakes his seat but he's looking straight at R. "It's - something you made and wanted. Is it not for outsiders to know about? Because I can keep quiet until you say otherwise."

[grand_error]

HAD he wanted it? At the moment, Grantaire wasn't sure. Yes, he believed in what Bellec, and the other apprentice who was paired with him, Arno, had told them about being an assassin, working in the dark to serve the light, everything being permitted because nothing was ultimately true. They still didn't feel like buzzwords, and he'd taken the brand after his first blooding and solo job, but he'd been in a bit of a numb state since then.

He'd known his target and probably ought to have mentioned that fact even if it wasn't well. She'd been one of the sellers at the market, had pushed her peaches and oranges at him every time he'd happened by, and had hinted at having bread to sell. As it turned out, her bread and dealings in it, had been the problem. She'd hurt others, children, like Gavroche from the streets and the sisters he'd mentioned were still at home, by her actions, driving up prices for cheaper and cheaper, and worse quality 'food' that was half mixed with sawdust, and she'd done her own share of killing. But...He'd known her.

The thought stuck with Grantaire today, even as he looked at the brand again, and told himself that it was for the greater good. With that came sacrifices, he supposed, as he contemplated the question, and then nodded, taking care to make it firm enough.

"I didn't make it, but I...yes, I wanted it. And I'd prefer we keep it on the downlow, for now, yes. Long story, but you know how secret societies of anarchist painters go."

[jamesmcginty]

James smiles at him. "Fair enough. We could trade too, if that'd help it not feel so - uh - your drawers in the wind, so to speak. I ... kind of hate listening to people saying my cousin's awful and wanting me to change what he does?"

He fiddles with a bit of turnip and his spoon. "Kind of like - this is a no for you, and that's a no for me. Because Mervin trusts me, and I know most of what he puts up with, but -"

He's not sure R would get it. Well, R definitely seemed to get it about the drinking. With barely any information. "I wonder if I could offer - some winter clothes or mitts for the kid. It's rough. Mervin was lucky enough to get in off the streets in winter. Or ... unlucky. I think that was part of his problem. Having to say sorry enough to get let back in."