[Javert's face is the equivalent of an impassive black line, his eyes boring unflinchingly and indifferently into hers. He will not give an inch to his wife until she frees him from these leopard print handcuffs.

--The exception being the drop of that smug smile from her face. That is enough to elicit a wry, bemused twitch at the corner of his mouth. This predicament is getting to be quite ridiculous, isn't it?]

What is that expression? [he asks in a low voice.] Are you joking with me? In that drawer! You said you have got it with you.

[He arches a brow, eyes drifting thoughtfully toward the ceiling, as cool and resplendently composed as always. At least he does not quite seem to be angry now that his wife has finally made her entrance.]

Though I suppose I shall settle for a saw. If the key is really lost.