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Post by Marius Rousseau on Jun 15, 2008 4:33:45 GMT -5
Well, Marius had attempted to find Henri at the dorms, but when that hadn't worked, he had simply left the opera house after deeming what he had on appropriate enough for where he was going in the city. He could have simply remained in the dorms alone and read, but books would probably have made him think of her, and practicing was out of the question so soon after a formal practice. If he sang too much, he'd lose his voice, after all. That wouldn't be good. Monsieur Remy would not be happy with him at all, and even if the man wasn't usually that scary, one didn't want him unhappy with him. It was never a good feeling. You actually felt as though you did something wrong if he was upset with you despite his gentle mannerisms.
But as it was, the young man had his mind far from Monsieur Remy or his "wrath." Right now he was getting himself prepared for the state he might find his friend in, for if Henri wasn't in the dorms, and all the girls seemed to not be out in the open, he was likely out in a shadier part of town at a tavern or whorehouse. Naturally, he was checking the tavern first. He wasn't so sure he'd go to the other. He was only willing to risk staining his reputation so far in search of his friend, after all. He didn't want to be thought to go for cheap kicks or something, even if he went quickly in and quickly out. No thank you. That lifestyle wasn't for him, though he wasn't going to stop his friend if he chose to do so. It was his body; he had to decide what to do.
Marius paused momentarily as he reached the tavern he knew Henri went to the most before entering and looking around. He didn't exactly feel out of place here as he'd been here before, but as it was, it wasn't someplace he frequented overmuch. His eyes roamed over some drunk men having some sort of heart to heart and he rolled them, shaking his head slightly. It was pathetic to see the effects of alcohol. Fools. Hopefully Henri wouldn't be out of his head yet, but part of him figured that was beyond hope and asking and expecting too much. He loved Henri like family but honestly, sometimes he wasn't too sure about him. At least he wasn't going to him for advice or something, right? He was just going to act like it was a normal day and he was coming to enjoy a drink.
He glanced over a barmaid as she walked past him and gave him a flirtatious look. One side of his lips tugged up in a half-smile before he walked past her and went back to searching the place for his friend. At least it was still early enough in the day that the worst crowd wasn't around yet or maybe it was the worst crowd just getting started up. Whatever the case, right now things were fairly decent for a tavern. Now, if only he could spot him. He really didn't want to check out the whorehouse. He'd rather sell his soul.
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Post by Henri Leblanc on Jul 2, 2008 1:02:00 GMT -5
Ah! Paris. It was a beautiful and cultured city. Very often, the beauty and the culture mixed. For example, he was part of the culture. He was a big part of the culture. He was the second greatest male singer in Paris through years of hard work and paying dues. After years of working in the rafters and then in practice rooms against and with countless others he was the base of the opera populaire and his best friend was the lead tenor. Together they were the most recognized male faces on the stages of Paris and everything in their futures were set.
As for the beauty of Paris. He was beautiful. He was handsome not beautiful but in this place, well, in most places beauty was all around him. There was the beauty of the Corps de ballet that he rubbed elbows with backstage. They were good for a quick kiss here or something else there. Cheep, easily flattered, and easily taken. And yet, most of them did not hold grudges. Then there were the beauties of the more self important chorus girls who were, despite their high noses easily flattered and conquered. Then there was the personal favorite, the snob, the aristocrat he soooo loved to hunt. But there were none of those rare beauties tonight. No, there were the bar maids of Paris for his entertainment and he would take it for now.
It wasn't a night for big kills or celebrations anyway. Rehersals were going terrible for the company. He wasn't mixed up in the whole thing of course. He was perfect with his pieces. He had two major ones. Both polilshed and ready for performance. Everyone loved his acting abilities as well as his voice. He had been ready for this role the minute they gave him the part. Marius however was having trouble with Contess Daae. It was ridiculous. It was absolutely ridiculous. The two of them acting like children. There was no passion no love and no fire. Sure the woman had a husband but that had never been a problem for him and it was just acting so Marius shouldn't have any qualms. The chorus and the ballet were a mess too. He was almost ashamed after today's rehersals...Not for himself of course, just for his company. He was fine.
But, in mourning for his fellow cast members, in the sadness for the failure in so far of the opera, he would do his best to try to forget how bad they were through drink. Rehersal ended and the drinking would start. He put on a clean shirt and breeches, filled his wallet with a few coins and headed off to his usual tavern followed by a good deal of his friends from the rafters of the populaire and the chorus. He could not get too drunk of course. He did have practice tomorrow...then again, he had done it before.
It seemed that this day however he would not be able to reach his happy goal for a familiar face popped out in the crowd. It was Marius and he was looking bothered. Bothered and sad. Henri, still very sober, not even half way through his second cup sauntered over to his friend and shook her head handing him the glass. "You're late and you look like a mess. What hell demon possessed you to go anywhere but here after a rehersal like that and who is she?"
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Post by Les Jondrette Femmes on Aug 27, 2008 21:29:04 GMT -5
In the corner a prostitute sat at the piano bench. She was playing a little ditty and singing quite well, and some costumers were bold enough to pay the smiling pimp at her side for a few touches. She smiled at them and continued with her song every time. Nearby the pimp sat another whore--or, though nobody here knew, the Marquess de Jondrette. She was certainly not dressed as was her public custom. The bodice of her dull red dress was cut very low, her breasts pushed high, and the skirt of her dress was very thin. She wore very scant undergarments so that the outline of her legs could be seen when she moved. Her hair fell in rippling auburn waves down her back. In short, she had planned her attire accordingly. Colette sat at a table where many men bantered with her. She felt a well of disgust well up in her at the sight of their toothless, blackened gums and unshaven faces. The whores here were going fast, but not her. She had an agreement with the pimp. She had named a very high price--one that she knew no man here could afford, they being unskilled factory labourers. In exchange for the pimp's protection and cooperation, she would give him every penny if the price were paid for her. If the price were not paid, then she had sworn that she would work for him for several months at no expense to him.
Of course, she knew that there would be a buyer. She was here in this terrible place, blending in with people who could not possibly know her face (especially with twin spots of rouge on her cheeks), to meet with a possible assassin for a certain man by the name of Deloncre. The assassin that she had used previously for other affairs had apparently packed out to London to escape the law. Her agreement through correspondence with this man was to meet her to discuss terms. He would come, buy her at the high price, they would go upstairs like any whore and her customer might do, and then discuss their true business and price. She had sent the pimp's fee to the man through her letter. Now all there was to do was avoid groping hands and wait.
Suddenly, a recognisable man entered. A chill ran through her and she turned her back to him abruptly as she realised who it was. M. Rousseau, the leading man of the Opera Populaire. She sighed, sure that he had not seen her, but nervous none the less.
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Post by Marius Rousseau on Nov 10, 2008 4:11:45 GMT -5
The tenor looked at Henri as he heard his friend speak above the other voices while approaching him and handing him a glass of ale, which Marius gladly accepted, taking a drink even if he noticed some was missing. It didn't matter. It wasn't like Henri was sick. He'd sung today, and one simply didn't do that if he was sick for fear of ruining his voice. He listened as he suggested some woman had kept him from coming here straightaway after practice and smirked. "Henri, Henri, Henri..." he said, shaking his head. "Some of us are fortunate not to be so one-tracked as you are, my friend." Honestly, that man he called his best friend was sometimes so unbelievable. There were more important things in life than women, drinking, and sex...all of which in Henri's name seemed to all equate the same end for him, so really, what was the matter with his statement?
Of course, the way his distracted mind had been functioning, he couldn't honestly say that he wasn't one-tracked. Ever since that chance meeting with the shy, quiet, but beautiful Liana the other day, his mind had been constantly wandering, and truthfully, he knew it wasn't love at this point, but it was lust, and some of his thoughts about the innocent young woman and what he wished he could do with her left him feeling shamed. Unlike his best friend here, he didn't objectify women as just pleasure objects, but the dream he'd had the other night had left him feeling rather wanton. And what frustrated him was that no matter what he told himself, the thoughts wouldn't stop. Thankfully, there were things to do around the populaire and in the city that kept his mind from it. He hated attraction, though, no matter what the circumstances had been at any point in his life, because if it was strong enough, it left him feeling powerless. None of this had been helping the already horrendous practices.
((Sorry it's shorter, but I'm jumping on the muse while I can, hoping to lock it back in my head.))
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Post by Henri Leblanc on Nov 10, 2008 13:59:34 GMT -5
This was purely insulting! It really was. Henri knew he had at least a four track mind, women, wine, food, and song...possibly in that order. Women first, then nourishment and then perhaps if he was of the right mind song. At least song during rehearsal, though there were women at rehearsals...in any case. It was purely insulting that his friend thought he had a one track mind. And Henri for one did not believe that his dear friend Marius was not any different. He had been daydreaming like a school boy for the past few days after all. There had to be someone but that secret had not yet been revealed. It would in time. It always was. Besides, poor Marius was probably adapting to the idea of thinking of a woman as a woman and not as an angelic goddess that could never be touched.
As his drink passed into his dear friend's hands Henri smirked and laughed loudly. "Come come my dear friend! You undercut my intellectual capabilities, you know I have a multi-track mind. At the moment at least three." He let his smirk slip into a cunning smile as he skillfully grabbed the two nearest girls into his arms and grabbed the drink out of one of their hands. An eruption of giggle fell from their soft pink lips as he held them close taking a drink of his newest brew. "At least three tracks. Isn't that right girls." Henri let out a deep full laugh that made his newest acquisitions blush wildly and chortle along.
A sip of the brew in his hand and Henri's smile calmed a bit. He feigned seriousness and looked at the two girls in his arms. "Now my dear ladies, the man before you is in a world of trouble. He had found a Venus to admire and had nothing but her name. He had been tortured by visions of her but will not tell us, his dearest friends, anything! What are we to do for him hmm?" Henri smirked, letting go of the two girls and circling his friend with a playful grin and glint in his eyes. "Should we make him drink until he discloses the name of his Aphrodite, should we have him pick out a similar looking whore, or should we send him off with one of you two ladies and whoever it is can tell me the name he screams when you're off together?" The girls blushed again and Henri chugged the rest of his drink with a grin and then turned to face his friend. "Or we could do it the easy way and you could disclose all without provocation."
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Post by Marius Rousseau on Nov 10, 2008 17:46:38 GMT -5
"Come come my dear friend! You undercut my intellectual capabilities, you know I have a multi-track mind. At the moment at least three."
Marius rose a brow, rolling his eyes and shaking his head slightly in feigned amusement to mask the pity he felt for his friend as the women neared, giggling and blushing like the whores that they were. Was he that incapable of finding a respectable woman that he had to go with such women as paraded themselves around for a fee? It was ridiculous, but he said nothing, merely kept a smile on his face as though finding his claim funny even though the fact that he had two women was ridiculous, he thought. Apparantly he was one of the few who thought that way, perhaps. He at least knew he was in the minority here judging by how many were hitting on harlots here. He rose his brows and lifted his mug as though in salute as his friend said he had at least three tracks. Honestly...
The way those women reacted to his chuckle was so... he didn't know what the word was, but he wouldn't mind having that reaction from--'Oh, quit it!' he thought to himself. He wasn't willing to go that far in his thinking, especially not in public, and especially not around his friend. He took a drink from his mug as Henri debriefed the women on the fact that he, Marius Rousseau, was "in a world of trouble." He stood there, listening in what he was pretty sure was amusement. His friends words were evoking a miriad of emotions in his mind. Slight disgust was amongst them. He was asking the women what they were going to do for him now and beginning to circle him like a vulture circling its prey.
"Should we make him drink until he discloses the name of his Aphrodite, should we have him pick out a similar looking whore, or should we send him off with one of you two ladies and whoever it is can tell me the name he screams when you're off together?"
He looked at Henri as though he was completely absurd. He would be screaming no names, for he would not allow himself to be sent off with the harlots. What did he want used goods for? And why did he want to pay for that act, which he wanted to do with one far too innocent to even begin to dream of doing it with? He could see her reaction already. It was similar to the one she had had when he'd fallen on her, only ten times worse. She would be afraid, he was sure, and she would either freeze in fear or scream or both, and he didn't want that for her. He liked her innocence, the very thing that intrigued his mind when it came to her. It just made it so difficult for him when his mind thought it ought to go explore places it ought not go.
"Or we could do it the easy way and you could disclose all without provocation."
"Perhaps my Juliette is not one for the spotlight," Marius replied as he met the eyes of his friend and kept his gaze over the rim of his mug as he took a drink. "And that, my friend," he continued as he lowered his drink from his face, "is all you will get from me, for I will not betray her confidence in me of her name which she was reluctant to give. Nor will I betray the thought of her to one of these whores or any others, and my friend, I'm not a drunkard. You'll be hard-pressed to get enough in me to have me ramble carelessly. So, what new torture will you evoke, Henri? For I know you won't give up simply because I refuse to speak her name."
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Post by Henri Leblanc on Jan 22, 2009 16:03:42 GMT -5
Was his respectable friend who had not given a thought to any woman since their career's started really this infatuated? Was the man he so respected for his dedication to his work really so much in love that he could not function as any proper man might? What he so high, and so chivalrous that he could not even tell his best friend the woman's name, if a woman she indeed be? Was there something so scandalous, so horrible that even his friends would be shocked at him? Slowly, in a devilish and mischievous form Henri's smile widened to a sly lawyerly grin. It seemed to Henri that every man this rightous in his love should be tested and his friend was right....he would not give up in trying to procure the name of this beauty that had his dearest friend so tongue tied.
A quick leap was all it took for Henri to lift himself onto one of the tables to much of the amusement of both the whores and the other men in the room. He executed two ancient courtly bows to begin his performance; one to each side of the room, each with a flourish of the wrist and the hand. The men laughed at his mockery, the women cooed at his silly grace and manners. Then he cleared his throat and raised his arms to silence the room. Almost all fell quiet recognizing the greatest of drinkers and most valued long term customer in the particular bar so that he could be heard.
"My lords, my ladies, and my dearest friends! I come before you today with a man who in the greatest need of our help. He is a man infected by the oldest sickness on this earth. I speak not of consumption: the dreaded disease of the blood that eats at us from the inside, i speak not of the plague which may turn one into ash and cause our bodies to rot without the pomp and circumstance of funerary discretion. No my friends! I speak of the greatest illness of all mankind; the pox of the heart: love!" At this moment chaos reigned and it made Henri smile. The women were cheering, the men were booing and some people were laughing at the farce of it all: Henri was one of them.
His hands rose up once again and the crowd fell silent. Some were still pondering his action in confusion, but as he looked down on his good friend Marius he could tell that the man knew what torture Henri had decided to bestow upon him for his transgression of silence. The sly auspicious smile remained as the crowd strained to hear more of the silly speech. Henri reached down and grabbed his friend, pulling him up to the top of the table to stand along side of him. "This man has been tricked by Queen Mab! This man has been dreaming of a goddess and yet, he does not disclose her name!" Henri smirked knowing that he would be physically abused for this later, but his friend had put up with his antics before. He would do it again.
"I ask you, good men and women here tonight, to decide judgment upon this man; this besotted school boy. Is he, or is he not is love!" Henri laughed as the crowd shouted and then proceed to motion for quiet once again. "Let him defend himself good people of the jury. Let him defend himself!" Henri patted him on the back jokingly and stepped down from the table with a flourish to allow his dear friend to speak and see how he would handle this latest of tortures.
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Post by Marius Rousseau on Jan 23, 2009 18:42:34 GMT -5
It was worse than what Marius had expected, and he knew it the instant that Henri leaped up onto the table and got the crowd going. He had to say that if any other man was the topic besides he himself, he would have been laughing and interacting just as the rest of the patrons of this pub were. But it was he that his friend spoke of, and he failed to find the humor in it as great nervousness seized him, his heart taking one long, drawn out beat before resuming its normal rhythm as he released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. After that, he took a few deep breaths and tried to force a smile as though deeply amused by his friend's antics. Were they really so horrible, after all? But God in heaven, he couldn't remember the last time he had felt this way about anything. His hands unclenched as he came to realize how they were held, and as his fingers slid out and down into a relaxed, natural position, he realized they were sweaty. He hadn't felt so nervous since at least his audition, but he had mastered the nervousness then, and he would again now. All that were here were a bunch of drunks, after all. Drunks and whores. They were far less important than the managers had been to him that day he had entered the Opera Populaire. Why then did he feel worse? His stomach seemed to twist in knots and he could feel the familiar churn that usually accompanied illness. He felt as though he was going to vomit. He didn't even feel this nervous before performances, but then again, performances he had done over and over and over until he had the lyrics down better than he knew the back of his hand. This was completely impromptu, and in the opera business, one didn't normally improvise his lyrics randomly unless he completely blanked in a performance but knew the gist and had to get through his part. "The show must go on." And it did performance nights and still would here tonight. He took another deep breath and forced himself to chuckle lightly at his friend as he continued his performance. However, he hardly had a chance to fully recompose himself before his dear friend, whom he would have to remember to kill later, pulled him up onto the table with him, giving his ultimatum to the enlivened crowd. "This man has been tricked by Queen Mab! This man has been dreaming of a goddess and yet, he does not disclose her name!" Marius took a deep breath and sighed, his shoulders rising and falling as he did so, returning the smirk as he shook his head with one of his own and a look in his eyes that said he'd get him back later. "I ask you, good men and women here tonight, to decide judgment upon this man; this besotted school boy. Is he, or is he not is love!" He rose a brow. If it weren't for sake of reputation, he might have made an ill connotative comment. Of course he wasn't. He knew he wasn't. He hardly knew Liana, his Juliette, from more than a few brief interactions. Just as he didn't believe Romeo had loved Juliette, he didn't believe he himself loved Liana. He was infatuated, yes. He was interested, yes. He was intrigued, yes. He wanted to know more and respected her, yes. However, he was not in love, and he knew it and would not dare say otherwise. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but laugh mildly at the crowd's reactions. Henri, however, had other plans than to make the crowd decide based on his words. No, he wanted Marius to stand up for himself and make a case for himself. Unfortunately, he didn't see this ending well. People would mistake the potential for love for love itself. "Let him defend himself good people of the jury. Let him defend himself!" Henri declared before jumping off the table, leaving Marius on his own. He gave him a look, asking him over the crowd, "What's so wrong with love anyway?" However, he was sure with the noise of the crowd his friend could likely only see his lips move. But honestly, why couldn't people differentiate between love and infatuation? Was it really so difficultly complex to distinguish? Love was poetically defined in the Bible--one of the few passages he remembered his mother reading to him. "Charity suffereth long, [and] is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: but whether [there be] prophecies, they shall fail; whether [there be] tongues, they shall cease; whether [there be] knowledge, it shall vanish away."
I Corinthians 13:4-8 (KJV) It sounded like a beautiful thing, and should he one day come to love Liana, he didn't see anything wrong with it. However, he could not entirely apply all of those things yet to how he felt. But he knew love did not behave as Romeo, making rash decisions based on feelings that were not established. Liana was beautiful; so far it seemed both inside and out. He knew he felt for her strongly, but there were unseemly thoughts he had towards her. Henri might see them as normal, and they were normal, but not so frequently. He could honestly say if someone else gained her hand, he would be jealous, but love "seeketh not her own." Love would be happy she had found happiness. It was as simple as that why he wouldn't say he loved her. Yes, he would be upset, but not jealous beyond belief, and he would move on and respect her decision. However, he had to admit that he was actively pursuing her in as direct a manner as he so dared at any given point in time when he was with her. After all, one could never love that he did not know in the intellectual and emotional senses of the word. He could know her as often as he pleased, but he still would not love. Love required respect, but deciding first to know a woman in the physical fashion first negated the idea of said respect. Therefore, even if he was attempting to woo her, he believed part of his "woo-ing" should be proving that he did respect her and wasn't only after the one thing. Henri himself could have love and a wonderful wife, if he so chose, but he decided instead to whore himself to the nearest whore--a match made in heaven, perhaps? With a sigh, Marius looked around the crowd that seemed to be chattering in anticipation, trying to figure out just what to say. When he was certain he had at least a few sentences in mind. "Messieurs et mesdames, despite what my dear friend has so...provocatively declared, I am not in love. Am I infatuated? I daresay yes, but I will say no more on such matters. I know how gossip is around these places, and if I so much as name where I met her, people will talk. Perhaps, if all goes well, one day there will be news. I certainly am not against love, but I am not in love." His eyes surveyed the crowd, which seemed let down by the dullness of his speech compared to his friend's more outrageous fashion of speaking. But Marius here was not looking to work the crowd. A few moments afterward, he hopped down from the table, looking at Henri. There, his point was made. He would not sensationalize his speech and tell for sake of a crowd. He would rather make his friend seem the fool if he were to put him on the spot like that ever again just as he had now.
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Post by Henri Leblanc on Aug 5, 2009 3:14:46 GMT -5
Well that was just a disappointing defense. No one liked a self righteous fool after all and right now Marius was playing the part very well- better for him even and it was getting all too sickening for Henri's liking. The boy knew how this was supposed to happen. He was supposed to put up some silly sodding defense and then he was was supposed to step down and receive a round or take some teasing for his crimes like every other man who went through one of Henri's ruses. They had been friends long enough for him to know that. On occasion Marius had even been part of a jury condemning his fellow men under the crime of love with a chuckle and a toast. Now he was fighting back? For God's sake the man was more than doomed and he refused to admit it. Henri should know- he saw love all the time and he could spot it at fifty paces objectively because he refused to be in it. This was no infatuation. If the woman was in trouble his best friend would probably go through hell and fire for her.
Now Henri would have to fight back. He would have to stop teasing Marius and really fight to keep his face jovial and dark. He would have to keep the crowd pleased as they were now silent as the grave and completely lost to the ruse. He could not have that. That was his greatest joy and Marius in his little fit of godliness had lost it for him. Henri looked at the whores to either side of him and pretended to doze off right in the middle of the pretty and thoughtful sermon. He smirked as he 'slept' and motioned the girls to do the same. Bit by bit the crowd saw him and started laughing a bit beneath their breath. But all together they were still dull. He would revive them as he himself would now supposedly revive.
His smirk widened as he supposedly started as his friend ended. He let out a loud and annoying false yawn, groping the girls to either side of him as he did so to the laughs of the crowd and the little yelps of surprise from his companions for the evening. "Are you quite done with are lesson today Father Marius. I was quite hoping there would be more confession and less of a sermon. Seems quite a shame you didn't, though in a way you did! You sat up there and not only denied it and protected this little lamb of yours and yet preached the virtues of love when you yourself has sat in these seats with us- your friends, your compatriots- and fought and jeered against the very principals. But we have both made are cases and now it is up to the people to decide is it not?"
Henri, with his usual flare and lack of responsibility bounded back upon the table and held his hands up to cheers and laughter once again. Madames, Monsieurs, and all you other vagrants of the jury! I ask you if you find this man guilty to buy him as many drinks as possible to drive all thoughts of whoever this little temptress is out of his head for his own damn good! If he is truthful and you believe his song and dance and god blah blah buy me a drink and get me to shut up somehow!"
With that the crowd was laughing the bar tabs were going up and Henri's useless lust for showmanship and again been satisfied. He smirked and sat down with a thud next to his dear friend with a smirk. "I thought you really did have me beat for a minute there but it looks like sin wins again my friend. I appreciate your chance to preach goodness though. It truly was touching for the briefest of moments before I realized you must be joking...right?"
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Post by Marius Rousseau on Aug 5, 2009 21:41:30 GMT -5
"I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about, Henri," Marius replied, thanking the barmaid for the ale. "But thanks for the free ale!" He laughed slightly, raising his mug to Henri and then took a good drink and put the mug down. He honestly had no clue what his friend was talking about: "...preach goodness"? He never did that, merely asked what was wrong with love and then went on to say he's not against love but was not in love. Quite a difference in his mind. Not like he brought up Scripture, for he knew he'd have been laughed out the pub. But! Who was he to complain? He had free ale, mostly good company (until Henri was gone from his mind and too busy with the whores to speak), and did he mention free ale?
Of course, Marius wasn't one for getting drunk. He had been there and done that one time too many. It was easy to let Henri talk him into a drink more after a certain point, which was precisely why he had to leave once he started to feel it. It was bad enough then, trying not to laugh at everything, inanimate or not, and attempting to keep his mouth from running and letting out words he didn't care to have leave him. And he didn't care what Henri would have to say about that because he'd rather not spend his morning vomiting and in bed. It would be a mess during practice anyway, struggling to recall what he was to sing. Something told him that was not a very good idea.
((Meh. As I told you earlier, muse has been crap today. Wrote this earlier, and I couldn't think of anything to add, so sorry it's short.))
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