[Javert's expression slackens dumbly, and a hard, cold crust forms. He stares at her closely, as if to measure whether or not she speaks sincerely. Rather than offer a verbal response to the flash of horror inside of him, he sweeps (managing to be all at once majestic, militaristic and naked) to his feet and loots his armoire compartments like a forty-niner mining for gold.
All empty. Save for one.
At the last drawer he freezes, neck bent over to scour its innards.
Javert raises his eyes back to Naomi, brow arched with meaning.]
You are a vile woman, [he remarks casually with a rueful grin.] You must have the last laugh, eh? Fine, then! I will not have it bother me.
[He grabs the last remaining articles of clothing from his armoire and disappears into the bathroom for a quick wash.]
no subject
All empty. Save for one.
At the last drawer he freezes, neck bent over to scour its innards.
Javert raises his eyes back to Naomi, brow arched with meaning.]
You are a vile woman, [he remarks casually with a rueful grin.] You must have the last laugh, eh? Fine, then! I will not have it bother me.
[He grabs the last remaining articles of clothing from his armoire and disappears into the bathroom for a quick wash.]