[Peace grins back at him. It's gruesome, she knows, but being here for a year has at least desensitized her to gruesome. Now it's just hanging on to her moral compass that is the hard part. Remaining human while looking in the mirror at four eyes and hardened skin. ]
I know you're immediately going to deny it, but: you're a really good person, Boss. Like, even when you're being all... stiff and staid, you've never once done wrong by me, and I'm happy to know you. Like, for-real for-real.
[Javert recoils slightly like Peace had delivered him a slap upside the jaw. Along with him, he loses his hold on the stillness of his coat, and it drapes in small curls around his arms and hips.
Insults are simple to take. Compliments prove an insurmountable challenge, especially when he feels they are unmerited.]
Tell that to the town the next time they call for my head, [he murmurs out the corner of his mouth. A dark wrinkle blooms between his eyes. He slips off the desk and firmly back onto his own two feet, and he makes to leave before some insane emotion threatens to grip him.
He pauses in the door frame awkwardly.]
You are... [His weight shifts from one heel to the other. He hisses a sigh.] A good witch, mademoiselle. I do not know why on earth you stay here. It is appreciated.
[A beat, and he cannot resists adding wryly,]
No one is more appreciative than the plants, of course. They would wither without you.
Well, they do like me a lot. But also, you could use a little reminder that everything isn't doom and gloom, Boss.
[She held a hand out.]
Wait right there, Boss!
[Peace ran over, and probably for the first time in a year, gave him a firm hug. Literally; the girl's hard as stone skin does not have much give to it.]
Plants or not, I stay here because I like you and this place.
[Javert stiffens beneath the touch, awkwardly, like he isn't sure what to do with an embrace from a wily young woman. Young troll. Wily, young, rock-hard and unyielding troll-woman. All the same,, his expression is hidden from her earnest face, his eyes wide and the lines in his face steeped with worry and a touch of...
Panic? Is that panic, that rush through his icy veins, enough to prickle the ends of his coat? Surely not.
He bares his teeth and slowly, the tension loosens just enough for his body to give a little to her stony hug.]
Don't say so, [says Javert, and it almost resembles a plea.] I... [A frustrated pause, and he trails off for a few beats. Such a thing has never been said to him before! He resumes tightly, without pity,]
Pardon me, mademoiselle. Let us pray your judgment is sound, and I don't make a liar out of you.
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no subject
I know you're immediately going to deny it, but: you're a really good person, Boss. Like, even when you're being all... stiff and staid, you've never once done wrong by me, and I'm happy to know you. Like, for-real for-real.
no subject
Insults are simple to take. Compliments prove an insurmountable challenge, especially when he feels they are unmerited.]
Tell that to the town the next time they call for my head, [he murmurs out the corner of his mouth. A dark wrinkle blooms between his eyes. He slips off the desk and firmly back onto his own two feet, and he makes to leave before some insane emotion threatens to grip him.
He pauses in the door frame awkwardly.]
You are... [His weight shifts from one heel to the other. He hisses a sigh.] A good witch, mademoiselle. I do not know why on earth you stay here. It is appreciated.
[A beat, and he cannot resists adding wryly,]
No one is more appreciative than the plants, of course. They would wither without you.
no subject
[She held a hand out.]
Wait right there, Boss!
[Peace ran over, and probably for the first time in a year, gave him a firm hug. Literally; the girl's hard as stone skin does not have much give to it.]
Plants or not, I stay here because I like you and this place.
no subject
Panic? Is that panic, that rush through his icy veins, enough to prickle the ends of his coat? Surely not.
He bares his teeth and slowly, the tension loosens just enough for his body to give a little to her stony hug.]
Don't say so, [says Javert, and it almost resembles a plea.] I... [A frustrated pause, and he trails off for a few beats. Such a thing has never been said to him before! He resumes tightly, without pity,]
Pardon me, mademoiselle. Let us pray your judgment is sound, and I don't make a liar out of you.