*a momentary side-glance at the subdued response, Arthur pulls a stick out of the packet he tosses on the table next to the wine bottle. He doesn’t smoke this brand, but he knows Francis does* Unlikely. You haven’t showered, you’re still dressed and I can’t smell anyone on you. *the faintest of smiles, and the crack of the flame as he lights up, still not yet making eye contact* I wouldn’t know from experience. But what do you mean, ‘a shame’? *exhaling, he passes the cigarette over and reaches for the wine* Happy Birthday. …Suppose I should’ve started with that.
[A grin spreads over his lips, Francis reaching over to grab the cigarette and put his wine glass away. He lights it with somewhat difficulty, fingers slipping when he tried to press down, but in the end he manages to light it and he leans back as he enjoys the fag] Maybe I had sex while dressed. [He shakes his head, glancing over at him when he finally wishes him that and he is slightly irritated the other does not make eye contact] Perhaps, yet you’re not even looking at me. Am I that invisible? [Stupid question, considering Arthur was in the same room as him, talking with him]
[He’s reading Fifty Shades of Grey]
*GETS ALL HUFFY AND RED FACED AND STRUTS OFF*
[LAUGHS LOUDLY AND JUST ROLLS ON THE FLOOR BECAUSE HE CAN’T BREATHE]
*sits down next to him with his legs outstretched* Well I’m not picking you up from custody; so you must’ve been practising. Jumping up and down in front of the bathroom mirror? Your usual flailing could take someone’s eye out. *rummages around in his pockets for a cigarette, something to do with his hands while the other drinks*
[Takes small sips then swirls the wine around the glass, seeming very curious about this action] Maybe. Maybe I had someone over too, but I just cannot remember. [Wrinkles his nose and looks at him] And what a shame that would be, no? Share a cigarette with me.
Royalist historians have scoffed at the picture of thousands of Parisians hurling themselves at the Bastille to release a handful of prisoners (only seven were still kept there). But such criticism falls somewhat wide off the mark. The immediate aim was to find the powder which had been sent there from the Arsenal - all the more urgent after the large haul of muskets taken from the Invalides….Yet there was no intention to take it by force, least of all on the part of the Permanent Committee of Electors who directed operations, with fumbling uncertainty, from the City Hall. They had made their intentions clear from the start: to negotiate with the governor for the surrender of the gunpowder in his keeping and for the withdrawal of the guns from his battlements.
…However, negotiations stalled after the crowds, surging round the fortress and fearing a trap when the deputations took so long to reappear, lowered the drawbridge (unaccountably left unguarded) that led to the inner courtyard. Believing a frontal attack to be imminent, de Launay gave the order to fire. In the affray that followed, the besiegers lost ninety-eight dead and seventy-three wounded. At this point the electors abandoned their efforts and the crowd took over. The decisive blow was struck by two detachments of the Gardes Francaises who…marched to the fortress with five cannon removed that morning from the Invalides. Supported by a few hundred armed civilians, they trained their canon on the main gate. De Launay threatened to blow up the fortress, but being dissuaded by his garrison, lowered the main drawbridge and surrendered to his assailants.
He himself and six of the 110 defenders were slaughtered - a small number of victims, it must be said, compared with the far heavier losses suffered by the besiegers.
So the Bastille fell, with political consequences…
George Rude, The French Revolution
*THIS IS AROUND THE POINT WHERE HE BECOMES SERIOUSLY OFFENDED and stands and debates stepping on him but he’s not that mean so he just looks down at him with this very disappointed look on his face like what have you done with your life*
…Sven, we have a problem. You’re fat. [THERE. HE SAID IT. HE. SAID. IT.] So get off me.
*THERE IS NO ESCAPE so he puffs out his cheeks and crosses his arms while sitting on Francis*
[INCOHERENT SCREAMING and he tries his best to push him off, because Godness, this kid is fat just like his cat]
I have alcohol, so today is wonderful!
*ATTEMPTS TO WALK AWAY but his feet are just sliding on the floor and oh no he’s going to fall and crush someone with his itty bitty booty*
[TUGS HARDER until Sven falls on top of him and Francis is left wheezing for breath] Sven- SVEN.
*walks straight past him as he’s looking for the phone and goes to the kitchen, pouring Francis a glass of wine. After a moment’s pause, he brings the rest of the bottle in with him as well and sets them down on the nearest table. hands him the glass* A good night I take it?
[By then, Francis has already sat on his bottom, legs crossed, and mind still half asleep. When the glass is handed to him he accepts it, deciding the best way to avoid a hangover is by drinking more] A very good one. Fireworks, lots of alcohol and dancing. I don’t even remember how I got home.