granxaire:

Grantaire watches him from the doorway,
a mug of too hot coffee in his hands because
it is early and even Grantaire has standards 
about when it is acceptable to start drinking.

                    The tone brings a lazy smile to his face and
                    Grantaire drinks down some of the liquid lava.
                    He’s going to need it if he’s already dealing with 
                    the chief this early. He makes no move to jump
                    to anything else, however.

        “Only you could invoke the wrath of
          the gods on account of glitter, Apollo.”

The glitter wasn’t his fault, of that he was fairly
certain. It might have been Jehan or Joly, but it
was most probably not him. 

:: { ℑ⋅ℇ } ─ ─ ─ ::

                     "Don’t call me that.“ It’s a 
                 familiar argument that he doesn’t
                 feel like hashing out whilst covered
                 in micro-fine glitter. He’s not even
                 sure where the nickname came
                 from, though he thinks Grantaire
                 being too drunk to remember
                 Enjolras is a good bet, and yet he
                 hates that Grantaire uses it with
                 him, bad enough that he uses it
                 around the others. En-jol-ras. 

                                           ”I don’t see why we had to
                                       celebrate Halloween. No one
                                       came trick or treating did they?
                                       I was right wasn’t I?“ Goddamn
                                       Courfeyrac. WIth another futile
                                       swipe, he gives up, locking eyes
                                       with Grantaire–’s cup.

                                                                     ”Did you make a pot?“