Makin' the Rounds [oPeN]

[Deleted]

He'd woken up quite pleased with the looks of this day. The clouds were few and far between but around enough that it wasn't viciously hot. People should be out on the streets, for what business, he didn't care. Whatever the rich people of Paris did during the day. All he cared was that they were on the streets with money in their purses.

It had been about four years since Gavroche first started his life on the street. Some days it felt like a far shorter time and others it felt far longer. It just depended on the mood of the air around him. But today, it seemed like a decent amount of time. He was good at what he did and he was able to care for and assist quite a few other children in his position, even if it meant he didn't get as much food as he should.

But today, he thought, he would get enough money to buy a feast for everyone! He was sure of it.

He pulled on the layers of clothes he didn't sleep in and looked into the broken mirror. He straitened out his jacket and unpinned the revolutionary flower from his breast and pocketed it. Although he would never look like he belonged in the fancier streets, he had to at least not look suspicious at first glance.

He grabbed a hold of the rope that hung down from the tower and used it to slide out the window and down the elephant. He quickly made his way over to the Faubourg, the fancy side of Paris where all dem rich folks live. He had come through here a few times but it had never been his sole target. In the past, it had intimidated him and he feared he would look to noticeably and obvious right away. But he had recently acquired a bit nicer of garments and he learned that if he ran his fingers through his hair that he actually looked a bit more presentable. Today was the day that he would get a fortune.

He arrived on the edge of area of town and took a deep breath. He began a leisurely stroll, checking out the houses as if looking for his own. He hoped that no one would recognize him if he minded his own business, at least for a few minutes as he walked purposefully through the streets.

Then he found someone. A tall looking aristocrat who was busy looking at his pocket watch rather then where he was going. Gavroche adjusted his pace and path so they would cross. He continued to look up at the houses before bumping into the man. In his best french he spoke. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I was jus' on my way home from church. I wasn' payin' attention to my footing." It seemed to work. Although a bit of his street-kid accent poked through the man just smiled and nodded then hurried on his way.

Gavroche grinned as he gently tossed the coin purse into the air, caught it, then pocketed it in his trousers.

[FÉLIX LESGLE]

The faubourg was no habitat for a man like Lesgle with its broad boulevards and well-to-do denizens. When he'd woken up that morning, he had no intention of going there, not because he had some aversion to it, but because he had no reason to. Still, fate liked to laugh in his face quite as often as he laughed in hers, so here he was. It was all on account of his pocket-watch, which somehow despite all his caution he'd managed to drop in a puddle, and now its hands were stubbornly fixed in one place. He had taken it to a watchmaker in the Latin quarter but the man had just shaken his head with a doleful look in his eyes; clearly he wanted Lesgle's business (he couldn't have known the young man if so) but could not help him.

Perhaps he'd have better luck in a nicer part of town. He had finally tracked down a recommendation for a watchmaker in the faubourg; rumor had it the man even had royalty for clients. Which did not sound as if his prices would be anywhere near what Lesgle could pay, but he hoped the man would at least take a look at it. The watch was his father's, and the elder Lesgle had always stressed the importance of being on time, especially for a post-master. The son hadn't necessarily heeded the father's advice, but he'd still like to be able to if the whim struck him.

Without his aggressively patched overcoat, Lesgle didn't look so out of place in the neighborhood. He wasn't paying attention to where he was walking, instead staring down at his watch as if willing the hands to move. They didn't, but his distraction was such that he collided with another smaller person, and he was so used to such minor crashes that he hardly looked at the other, but carried on walking. A few paces later he had to concede the watch was definitely still broken, so he pocketed it, and it was then he discovered his loss. He chuckled as he turned around to see who had picked his pocket. It was the lad he'd so thoughtlessly run into, or who'd so thoughtfully run into him.

"Hey boy, wait a minute! I think you've wandered off with something of mine—" He moved to close the distance between them, then broke off as he suddenly recognized the thief. His chuckle became a full-throated laugh. "Why, but it's little Gavroche! You must have forgotten who I am, or you'd know very well there's only air in that purse," he said with a grin.

As he spoke, he missed seeing a poker-thin figure standing in the shadow of a nearby façade, and how its head turned subtly in their direction.

((OOC: Javert reference for later on. :D))

[Deleted]

//Spoooookeh//

Gavroche hung his head low and barreled onward, not watching to look back in case the man noticed quickly that he was missing his valuables. But then he heard it. "Hey boy, wait a minute! I think you've wandered off with something of mine—" He had noticed far quicker then Gavroche would have wished for but he sped up his pace and moved quicker to try to loose the man in a crowd. But no such luck. Before the boy could make his escape, hi victim was upon him.

And never had Gavroche been happier to be caught. "Why, but it's little Gavroche! You must have forgotten who I am, or you'd know very well there's only air in that purse." He knew the man. Not well, by any means but he was one of Courfeyrac and Marius's friends at the Cafe. Despite his status and his need, Gavroche did have morals. He had vowed long ago - when he had first started to become friends with a wealthier crowd - that he would never pick his friends' (unless it was in good fun) and that extended to the rest of the ABC gang, even if he didn't know them well.

Gavroche dipped his head and an apologetic grin spread across his face. He couldn't remember the man's name or he would have used it, but he pulled the thin purse back out of his pocket and held it up to the man. "I' was all in fun. Ah was simply testin' yer reflexes. Ah'd say yeh fail at noticin' but yer instinct tah check yer purse is an A plus!"

When Lesgle would reach out to grab for his bag, Gavroche would pull it just out of his reach with a childish laugh. But the fun was over and he had recognized that the man had been in a hurry originally. He tossed the bag up to him so he couldn't pretend to swipe it back.

Gavroche was entirely unaware of their supervisor...

[FÉLIX LESGLE]

Considering the frequency with which he came face to face with misfortune, Lesgle had plenty of opportunity to decide how he should face it. No one who heard a litany of just a day's woes would have begrudged him for r being down at the mouth, even disagreeable. But he took everything with cheerful magnanimity. Of course he was never short of words and his friends got to hear all about his misadventures but the stones were never delivered with a bitter note. And so when he discovered that his purse was gone, he wasn't surprised, but laughed. It was exactly the sort of thing that always happened to him.

Where it differed though was what followed. He had gone after the thief without much hope, his best weapon that the purse's only value lay in itself. It would be a minor inconvenience to lose it but he still liked to have one on the slim chance he might have something to put in it. When he got a little closer he saw that he knew the thief; moments later Gavroche turned around and this time recognized him. Lesgle wasn't at all surprised, nor would he have been if the lad didn't know his name. It was enough that he knew Lesgle's face.

He, Joly, and Grantaire were in their ways on the fringes of the student society; Gavroche, when he did visit the ABC, was more caught up in the inner circle, as well he should be. His wit and boldness put him on an equal footing with the others, now he just had to grow into them.

Lesgle's laugh was even fuller and easier once he realized he'd be getting his purse back, and really the whole situation was so amusing and fresh. He was so often with his head in the clouds that it wasn't uncommon for him to be robbed like this, but it was new that he should have his property returned. As much as he didn't mind being stalked by fate and her perpetual raincloud, it was still nice to have a little variety.

"Of course it was," he said with a knowing twinkle, reaching out to take the bag. It was all right. No one was hurt, and Lesgle might not pick pockets himself but he knew the sort of luck that would drive a person to it. "I am glad not to be a complete failure at something. I'm already such a disappointment to my dear parents." He said it in a joking tone, but it was true too. The boy tossed his purse up to him and he caught it. "Thanks very much! Someday I'll have to see about replacing the courtroom with another destination, since I fell quite short of that one. Well, good day to you and good luck on your beat—"

The sight of something behind Gavroche stopped him and he lowered his voice, though still jocular. "I say, I think a friend of yours is coming over. He seems to know you, at any rate." Now that the figure had left the shade and come into the sun, his uniform was quite obvious, and Lesgle suspected that he was not on his way over to offer well-wishes to the gamin. However, it was all perfectly innocent, so the former student wasn't worried for Gavroche. Not yet.

[Deleted]

"I am glad not to be a complete failure at something. I'm already such a disappointment to my dear parents."

"Naw, no'un's a complete failure. There's always sumthin yer good at it. Usually mor'in one thing, too!" He smiled. Living on the streets was tough and the only way to get through it with any semblance of sanity is to keep your chin up (though not physically, because then people can recognize your face) and keep your manor bright. It could always be worse. You may live in a gutter, but at least you aren't dead in one. Gavroche disliked when people spoke poorly of themselves, especially when the person was better off then Gavroche and his wards (even if not by much).

"Thanks very much! Someday I'll have to see about replacing the courtroom with another destination, since I fell quite short of that one. Well, good day to you and good luck on your beat—" Gavroche nodded and held up his hand in a fairwell gesture but stopped when the other man cut his sentence short. Was there something he had forgotten to say?

[/i]"I say, I think a friend of yours is coming over. He seems to know you, at any rate."[/i]

Gavroche's almost permanent grin wavered slightly. A friend of his? The only friends who would make their way over to talk to him (and actually be able to roam this area freely) would be Enrojlas, Marius or Courfeyrac. Odds or, either of those three men would have been recognized by Lesgle...Which means that whoever was coming over, probably wasn't too friendly.

Rather then take a chance and look over his shoulder to see who was coming to see him, he bolted. Anyone who really needed to talk to him would find him somewhere else.

Gavroche took off, leaving the man behind. He didn't bother to look back - he didn't need to to know he was probably being chased. He tried his best to run around people, knowing that his chaser was more then likely larger and less nimble. The only downside for Gavroche was that his pursuer probably knew the streets better.[/blockquote][/blockquote]

[ÉMILE JAVERT]

Javert had been watching this encounter since it began. Its origins seemed innocent enough, but the inspector knew the ways of thieves too well. The 'accidental' collision was a time-honored artifice, a perfect cover for picking pockets, so it had immediately put him on alert. However, he didn't step in until he was certain that it was indeed what it looked like. Once he saw the purse change hands, he knew. That it had been returned was immaterial, a theft had still been committed. He also knew the thief well. Gavroche, the tiny terror who delighted in plaguing the police of Paris but especially Javert.

Today he seemed uninterested in his usual games, which suited the inspector just fine. A simple chase would be a welcome break from the frustrating cat-and-mouse routine that they normally went through. And in this area he would hold an advantage for once, knowing the streets better than Gavroche. The boy was getting bold, too bold, if he was venturing this far into the faubourgs. Well, perhaps an ear-pull would be enough to convince him to stay within the confines of the Latin quarter from now on.

When Gavroche took off then, Javert was ready for it. He strode forward, gave the young man who had been robbed the briefest of glances, then followed at a brisk pace. There was no need to run yet, since in streets like these it would be safer for the boy not to draw attention to himself. He already stood out here, and though the majority would prefer not to get involved, one or two were bound to notice a gamin being chased by a police inspector and be able to draw the correct conclusion. Javert wove around those on the streets who didn't know to get out of his way, always keeping an eagle's eye fixed on the blonde head in front of him.

He only had to wait for the boy to make one false turn to a dead-end alley, or for him to make the mistake of hiding instead of running. Javert was getting older and with the years came the possibility of safety for a criminal who could run long enough, but hiding brought no respite at all from the keen gaze of the inspector. There was nothing wrong with his eyes. What man could conceal, Javert could find.