I've Never Heard Him 'Oooh' and 'Aaah'

Chapter 4

Just to the left of the cafe's door, Bahorel leaned back against the facade of the cafe, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, selected one, placed it between his lips, and after taking his lighter out of his pocket, lit up. He ignored the passerby who did not interest him and they avoided him either by instinct or knowledge of his reputation. He didn't care though. He knew from experience that he wouldn't be waiting long. Bahorel knew that Feuilly knew that a few wasted minutes could be what lost him a job or a meal, making him quite easily the most punctual of Les Amis. However, the one flaw in this plan was that Feuilly didn't know about it. Bahorel hadn't told him he'd be waiting for him, mostly because he knew Feuilly would protest 1848-style. So, Bahorel preferred to think of it as a little "surprise" for, in his opinion, his over-worked friend.

A total of about two minutes passed before Bahorel's patience, in the loosest sense of the word, failed him and he grabbed his phone in order to find out why he'd been forced to wait more than ten drags of his cigarette.

Where the fuck are you? He texted, his thumbs practically leaving dents in the screen. Even waiting the next fifteen seconds for a reply had Bahorel muttering angrily, long winded curses spilling from his mouth as if it were his mother tongue.

OK, first off, stop cursing under your breath. You've probably already terrified enough people in the vicinity as it is, was Feuilly's initial reply.

Bahorel growled in the back of his throat. Feuilly continued.

Good. Now, I'm on my way to the cafe to discuss the pros and cons of collective bargaining with Enjolras and Courfeyrac before the meeting officially starts tonight.

Oooh, fun. Bahorel taunted.

Shut up.

Listen, Bahorel began, Grantaire and I were going to grab some beers before the meeting. You want to tag along?

Feuilly responded with a single word: No.

Let me rephrase that, Bahorel wrote. You're tagging along.

My turn to rephrase…No.

But Feuuuuuuuiilllllllllllyyyyyyyy.

No, Bahorel, I am literally just turning the corner to the cafe now. Plus, I have no spare cash for alcohol today. Or ever really but especially today! So, no. See you later.

Bahorel smiled devilishly as he looked up and saw Feuilly rounding the corner, his eyes still on his phone.

"Three…two…" Bahorel said, under his breath. "…One."

Then, he set to savoring the look on Feuilly's face when he saw Bahorel, looking as sly as a cat, reclining casually on the wall outside the cafe.  

"You son of a bitch, Bahorel!" Bahorel grinned and clamped his monstrous arm over Feuilly's bony shoulder, forcing him to walk alongside him.

"While this is true, now you have no choice but to come with me on my quest of alcoholic fulfillment." Bahorel continued to grin cheekily but Feuilly remained unamused.

"Do you realize, Bahorel, that as my salary stays constant, the cost of living continues to increase on a daily basis?"

"That's why I'm paying." Feuilly looked doubtful.

"Are you so sure about that?"

"Well, Grantaire has his own fucking tab there anyway!" Bahorel yelled. He'd expected to be, at the very least, buzzed five minutes ago. He jabbed his cigarette in Feuilly's direction as he said, "The point is, tonight's your lucky night, Feuilly. So stop bitching about it."