OOM: An Adventure in the Making

[le_centre]

 
Courfeyrac had come to Bossuet and Joly's room many hours ago. Now, it occurs to him that perhaps he should attempt to remember why, because the purpose is bound to be important, or at least will distract from the cherubs glaring down at him with what he's sure is reproach.

'Who are you to judge?' he tells them, a bottle of something clutched to his chest. 'Why, you of all Heaven's being are sure to know what it is not your place; save it, dear children, and allow me to-'

...wait, he has forgotten. Is this absinthe? He squints at the label, and then holds it up in the air.

'Bossuet, what are we drinking?'

Comments

[le_centre]

'Messieurs!' comes the cry from the shop assistant, but it is too late; Courfeyrac hears a crack through his laughter, and then the unfamiliar sound of metal coming free of plastic, and some strange material comes off the wall; one of the large pictures rocks, then falls, and Courfeyrac finds himself on the floor.

He's still laughing. He's covered with scraps and frills of lace, and has some sort of garter across his face, and perhaps this is why he is laughing, if it weren't the thought of ladies underwear possibly being named after Victor Hugo.

'After all, the man was a ridiculous old letch. So why not? He would think it an honour, no doubt.'

[tire_moi_mes_bottes]

"No doubt," agrees Bossuet weakly from somewhere under a heap of brassieres. "No doubt he would, the dirty-minded old gossip."

He struggles to sit up, pushing underwear off his face, almost weepy with laughter. "Ah--ah--hm, Mademoiselle--"

The shop assistant is saying something about calling the police. If ever there were a time for a deus ex machina, this would be it.