granxaire:

Like that was a surprise. The only time there
was any real food in the building at all was
when Joly or Feuilly were around. Or Jehan.
Jehan was an excellent cook. And unlike Joly,
Jehan didn’t harp if you skipped on one of the
bloody food groups.

Opting to skip on some semblance of breakfast,
both for the sake of time and the lack of caring,
Grantaire followed Enjolras down to his car. This
was good what they had between them now. They
each had their roles, knew what the other expected
of them, it was a good silence.

Enjolras always drove, unless he couldn’t, then
Grantaire took over. But Grantaire was, like he was
in everything, reckless when he drove, so it was a
good thing Enjolras found peace behind the wheel.

Normally the road and the mission would keep him
occupied, so the unprompted question confused the
brunette. “Uhm, no? Is your shoulder bothing you?”
he asked right back because really, what was Apollo
getting at?

:: { ℑ⋅ℇ } ─ ─ ─ ::

         There’s literally nothing that makes
       sense about that reply and it shows on
       Enjolras’ features, always so expressive
       with how he feels. Right now, he sort of
       feels like maybe he’s being lied to but
       maybe not because Grantaire looks
       genuinely   c  o   n   f   u   s   e   d .

         "You were rubbing it. If you’re hurt–
       just because Joly’s with ‘Ferre doesn’t
       mean he won’t have your head if you
       work with an injury.“ And then he’ll go
       for Enjolras’ head, for making Grantaire.
       As if he has any power to do that.                                       (    the  irony.   )

          Boulevard Périphérique is a driver’s
       nightmare but thankfully, one of the
       gods of the Greek Pantheon Grantaire
       is so fond of is on their side because
       traffic is… a little less heavy. A little.