Horsing around

[wings_of_a_swan]

Combeferre pokes his head into Duncan's stable. He has a small tablet attached to a small speaker. He carries all this equipment without difficulty--everything is small and not heavy--but with a certain tentativeness, like he's scared he might break something.

He's still not clear on who named the horse Duncan. He doesn't think it was Feuilly. But...Feuilly's been spending some time here, and Combeferre became curious about one or two horsey questions.

The place does look rather lived in. By a human. There's a cot-like thing. Feuilly must have been here more often than Combeferre thought.

Combeferre walks up to Duncan and starts petting his nose.

Comments

[wings_of_a_swan]

Duncan, after a neigh of protest and a moment or two of standing stock-still, begins to move again when Pachelbel plays, trotting along in apparent contentment.

Combeferre turns to Percy. He doesn't say "I told you so," but his face might just say it for him.

"I would not harm him," Combeferre says instead.

He's annoyed, but he's also amused. This may be Shakespeare's Hotspur--Combeferre makes a note to talk to Prouvaire and find out for sure--who Combeferre gathers is a very heroic sort of character. Hotspur, defender of innocent horses against cruel Frenchmen. It sounds like a tale an English poet might tell.

[harryhotspur]

"Well-- very well, then," Harry snaps, though it's just the last sparks of irritation that now has no good outlet. He folds his arms over his chest. "If y'are sure of it."

[wings_of_a_swan]

Combeferre sighs. Does he have to do this with an English knight glaring at him the whole time?

"I am, and if he mislikes anything I'll stop. You're free, of course, to stay and watch--only I pray you, don't stand there glowering like a gargoyle. Come, Percy--I was discourteous when you first arrived, for which I ask your pardon. But if you're friends with Feuilly and Enjolras, I know of no reason why we should quarrel."

...he doesn't fully believe this. Feuilly is a deeply kind and generous man, and so is Enjolras in his own single-minded way. Both men possess a remarkable tolerance for annoying foibles. But Combeferre believes in civilization, which relies on some polite half-truths.

[harryhotspur]

--ugh, right. Hotspur wants to believe that a friend's friend is his friend... but he didn't know before that Enjolras and Feuilly had so many friends. And that some of them would be... not (at least as far as Hotspur can see) very much like the two of them at all.

"No, nor I," he agrees grudgingly. "You had no better welcome from me, and I crave your pardon also."

He offers a hand. See! He can be good!

[wings_of_a_swan]

Combeferre shakes his hand with a half-smile. He's being good too! "We may pardon each other, then, and forget this--for our friends would no doubt think us fools for squabbling."

[harryhotspur]

"No doubt," he agrees, and he does mean that, at least. He's been called a fool for less, after all.

"I will leave you, then, to Duncan's company," he says. He did consider staying, of course, just to prove that he could, but the attendant boredom doesn't seem worth the minor victory.

[wings_of_a_swan]

Combeferre nods. "Farewell, then."

[harryhotspur]

Hotspur starts to go-- then bounds back over to Duncan to give him a last pat and murmur something in his ear. Then he goes, with a last nod to Combeferre.