From Dusk to Dawn

Chapter III: Contemplation

Sorry for the shortness though!

Chapter III: Contemplation

"We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be."

―Patrick Roothfuss

"Enjolras called for an emergency meeting!" the voice of Joly echoed through the empty warehouse wherein they usually hang-out when the club was not in their interests. Joly's statement took the attention of everyone in the room; earning different feedbacks. "This early?" asked Grantaire, shooting a sigh over the gambling cards and early whiskey. "Maybe Enjolras finally figures a way to infiltrate the Government's system?" said Courfeyrac, shoving down the gambling cards back to the wooden table.

"Jehan, you still owe me fifty dollars!" Grantaire's scream rang out as everyone entered the black SUV started to head towards Enjolras' own apartment.

"You know, I'm starting to worry." Courfeyrac ignited the conversation.

The dead silence was killed by this statement, earning a remark from Grantaire, "-That it's been a month since you've been laid?" which earned few laughs from the Advocate. "No, look, Enjolras was not himself yesterday. And we've never seen Marius for five straight meetings!" Courfeyrac continued, attempting to place the discussion from superficial to serious. "Now that you've mentioned it," contemplated Combeferre, diving into the conversation. "You found him at Time Square, exactly in the middle, didn't you? Joly?" Bossuet said, rotating the stirring wheel to the left. "Well yes, he looks so lost back then." Joly answered, sitting straight and casting a glance towards the window. "Maybe he has some kind of illness?" teased Grantaire, "-He even used the term tavern!"

"Something really must have been going on with Enjolras," Jehan stated in a deep monotone. "-He's been so alone lately, I heard he even drove to a province and just came back yesterday." Jehan finished his cup of coffee, "-And his car wasn't in his apartment."

"Why would he actually mention a tavern, Grantaire?" asked Combferre, haunted by the use of the word tavern that's directly pertaining to a wine house. "Fuck I don't know, I dragged him to a nightclub, y'know where you guys go when you need a companion," everyone looked at Grantaire, wanting to know more. "Why the hell would you drag Enjolras there?" Combferre replied, in a questioning overtone. "That man needs to loosen up," Grantaire shot back.

The concept of reason itself appears as an artificial attempt to separate intellectual powers from the frustrations, emotions, and accidents which cause events; the concept of reason is viewed as facade to prevent change.

- Edward Levi

Montparnasse slammed his hand against the wall of his room the moment he woke up; finding no one was beside him. There was yet another information that escaped from his grasps. "I was so fucking close!" Damn that Eponine. Montparnasse sat on the crimson couch and aided himself with a good and comfortable seat.

But apparently, he was not the only one that's awake during the early hour of the day; a slender figure walked into his room with the same old deadpan expression that ever lingered across his face. "Don't work yourself too hard, Montparnasse." The man muttered in a melodic monotone; apparently his voice was paralleled to his expression. "There's still ways to gain information, rather than overusing your little friend." He said in a darker timbre, similar to the deep undertone of the shadows. He took a mask from one of Montparnasse' drawers and threw it to him, "Maybe a little facade is needed." He ended, disappearing once again and retreating back to the shadows of his quarters.

Maybe you're right, Claquesous. Maybe it's time to do some action against that little rebellious group.

Montparnasse opened his curtains as the morning's breeze brushed across his face, enlightening new ideas.