Drinking Party At 'Ferre's
Jan. 9th, 2013 06:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
decipheredhieroglyphics posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
lesamisdodwWho: Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Bossuet - the Amis not lost in Africa (Joly, Jehan, you wanna come play too? -- no idea about Marius/Feuilly?)
Where: Combeferre's apartment.
Notes: Amis converge on 'Ferre's apartment for a night of drinking before they get serious about going after Enjolras and Grantaire who are currently, to their best knowledge, marooned somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Africa and very possibly in danger.
Status: ONGOING!
--
Combeferre had a little time before his friends came over, and decided to fill up the fridge a bit. He had been emptying it, part because he didn't want to leave anything perishable for when he was out of the country, and part from a lack of desire to trudge through the grocery store.
He picked up snacks and another six pack at the store, trusting that Bahorel and Courfeyrac at least would bulk up the booze supply, then, on the way back, stopped at the bookstore for some crash courses in Swahili. Maybe it wouldn't help, but it couldn't hurt -- better a chance of the locals speaking that than English or French, anyway.
Combeferre couldn't help worrying. Eight days now, with no word from Enjolras or Grantaire. He was still utterly and completely certain that Enjolras couldn't be dead, and he was less certain that Grantaire was stubbornly stuck to his side -- like, Courfeyrac had said, a barnacle. It was an apt description, anyway. He didn't expect, not really, that he and the others could just fly into Nigeria and take a powerboat down the river and find Enjolras and Grantaire huddled alone in a makeshift hut, ready and waiting to be rescued. No. If he knew Enjolras at all, his friends certainly weren't going to be waiting at the crash site--wherever it might be. He knew they'd have to find the crashed remains of the plane and ascertain a trail before they had any hope of finding Enjolras. And God knows how long that could take. Still, he wasn't despondent and he would hold out hope.
But what he shouldn't be doing, and he knew it, was worry himself to death. So he ruthlessly cleaned out the rest of the things in the living room. He piled the unsorted boxes in Enjolras' bedroom -- he considered it small payment for the worry and fuss his friend had been putting him through -- and tossed out all the old takeout remains from the past week. He figured it was clean enough for his friends, and loaded up the first Rosetta Stone disc while he waited for the others to arrive, or text him for directions.
Where: Combeferre's apartment.
Notes: Amis converge on 'Ferre's apartment for a night of drinking before they get serious about going after Enjolras and Grantaire who are currently, to their best knowledge, marooned somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Africa and very possibly in danger.
Status: ONGOING!
--
Combeferre had a little time before his friends came over, and decided to fill up the fridge a bit. He had been emptying it, part because he didn't want to leave anything perishable for when he was out of the country, and part from a lack of desire to trudge through the grocery store.
He picked up snacks and another six pack at the store, trusting that Bahorel and Courfeyrac at least would bulk up the booze supply, then, on the way back, stopped at the bookstore for some crash courses in Swahili. Maybe it wouldn't help, but it couldn't hurt -- better a chance of the locals speaking that than English or French, anyway.
Combeferre couldn't help worrying. Eight days now, with no word from Enjolras or Grantaire. He was still utterly and completely certain that Enjolras couldn't be dead, and he was less certain that Grantaire was stubbornly stuck to his side -- like, Courfeyrac had said, a barnacle. It was an apt description, anyway. He didn't expect, not really, that he and the others could just fly into Nigeria and take a powerboat down the river and find Enjolras and Grantaire huddled alone in a makeshift hut, ready and waiting to be rescued. No. If he knew Enjolras at all, his friends certainly weren't going to be waiting at the crash site--wherever it might be. He knew they'd have to find the crashed remains of the plane and ascertain a trail before they had any hope of finding Enjolras. And God knows how long that could take. Still, he wasn't despondent and he would hold out hope.
But what he shouldn't be doing, and he knew it, was worry himself to death. So he ruthlessly cleaned out the rest of the things in the living room. He piled the unsorted boxes in Enjolras' bedroom -- he considered it small payment for the worry and fuss his friend had been putting him through -- and tossed out all the old takeout remains from the past week. He figured it was clean enough for his friends, and loaded up the first Rosetta Stone disc while he waited for the others to arrive, or text him for directions.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-01-21 08:34 pm (UTC)His hair is all a mess and in his face from being petted.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-01-22 01:27 am (UTC)Glancing at Combeferre, he smiles and reaches out to comb Combeferre's hair down into a semblance of normalcy with his fingers. "You're cute. Know that? Real cute."
He's supposed to be standing up to help Combeferre. Pushing himself carefully to his feet, Courfeyrac manages to stay vertical and turns to offer Combeferre a hand up. "I c'n help. Prob'ly. And Ba'el, I don' think that disc goes 'n that console. 's not the right size."
(no subject)
Date: 2013-01-22 01:34 am (UTC)He keeps at it for a minute before he has a breakthrough.
Turning the disc upside down, he goes at it again.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-01-22 01:48 am (UTC)Combeferre trips and falls against Courfeyrac. "S'ry. Fell. I really gotta peee."
Using the coffee table and Bahorel's shoulder, Combeferre gets himself righted again, and stumbles off into the bathroom.
Nerium follows him, and he tries to nudge the kitty out of the bathroom with his foot. "Go 'way, Nerium, wanna pee in private." The kitten mews at him, and doesn't go anywhere.
"Bossuet, think your kitten needs to pee too."
Then Combeferre turns around to take care of his own business.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-01-22 02:37 am (UTC)Turning away from the bathroom, giving Combeferre his privacy, Courfeyrac looks at what Bahorel is doing.
"'s really not gonna fit, Bahorel." Stumbling his way over to Bahorel, he collapses with his left arm across Bahorel's shoulders. His right hand tries to take the disc away from Bahorel. "Have t' find the right console. Or a dif'rent disc. Can try a different disc. Dif'rent shooty game."
(no subject)
Date: 2013-01-22 07:05 pm (UTC)"Or... givn yor porrnns, mybe 'ths what heee said'd'" he amends.
Then he pitches forward as Cofeyrac falls across his shoulders. With the hand that's not holding the game disc, he barely catches himself. Though the added weight of his friend brings his face dangerously close to the console in front of him. Meanwhile, the game-holding hand flings itself wide to clear 'Fey's reach.
"Gettoff 'Fey." He protests. "'S mine."
In an effort to dislodge his attacker and guard his disc, he pushes himself back up with significant force. Not only does he succeed in getting back upright, but he, and his hanger-on, are driven backwards and into the floor, with Bahorel on top.