Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

[eiffelinlove]

[Ah, Paris!

It's a beautiful summer's day in the city of love. The sun is shining and the streets are crowded with pedestrians, tourists and locals alike. On the street corner, a handful of them are nearly run over by a car driving up onto the sidewalk to get around traffic, horn blaring. A man selling postcards just barely jumps out of the way. Somewhere, someone is playing the accordion.

Yes, it's a beautiful day in Paris. The heart of the nation. The rest of the nation also happens to be in town; comfortably seated in a cafe overlooking the river, glass of wine in hand and positioned oh so elegantly for any passersby to admire. If you look at him for too long, it's possible the cafe may be replaced by a background of sparkles and roses.

Stare for too long and he'll probably notice. Leaning back with a flip of his hair, France winks charmingly.]

Would you like to join me, mon cher?

[Sparkles.]

Comments

[socialistes]

[ the way he takes it personally kind of takes him aback for a moment. But instead of inquiring he has to defend his honor, of course. ]

Others might break, but I will fight for my country.

[eiffelinlove]

[ Ah, that youthful indignation. Such fire and passion- just what he would expect from a proud Frenchman! ]

Will you? Well, in that case, your country thanks you!

[ France raises his glass and holds the other out for Enjolras to take. ]

A toast! To freedom and to yourself, monsieur!

[socialistes]

[ his expression turns puzzled for a moment -- his country thanks him? the second time it's been so personal and, anyway, most frenchmen don't agree with his politics. c'est la vie, right?

but he does manage to actually take the wine glass. incredible. ]

To freedom.

[ but never to himself. ]

To France.

[eiffelinlove]

[ Whether or not France agrees with the revolutionary spirit burning through the slums of Paris matters little. What matters is that it's there. That his people love him, love each other, love themselves. It's difficult for a nation to properly take a side in politics until things reach a breaking point, but France will always love someone for loving him. That revolutionary fire is a part of him, after all. ]

To France.

[ And that gets a slightly more sly smile as France drinks. Sometimes it's amusing to watch a serious young man figure out something extraordinary. His identity isn't a secret but even in Paris not everyone knows his face.]

[socialistes]

[ the seriousness is a real barrier to the belief in the extraordinary, let me tell you. at least he's aware he needs to use some social graces here. so he tries a smile -- he ended up with a group of friends somehow, didn't he? ]

I'm Enjolras. What's your name, friend?

[eiffelinlove]

[ He's seriously pretty too. That probably helps. ]

Enjolras.

[ France takes a little too much pleasure saying that name. How lovely and dramatic it is. If a little more Spanish than is preferable. ]

You know my name, mon ami. Don't tell me you've forgotten?

[socialistes]

[ blame victor hugo my dude, he was really creative with names. but france's answer gives him pause. he's forgotten? ]

Ah....I apologize.

[ merde. ]

[eiffelinlove]

Ah, you have forgotten.

[ At least he seems more amused than insulted. ]

And yet I see you have known me all your life. You cannot recognise me now?