VIDEO ✍ 008 --> Lari's Return from Hiatus

[inseine]

[The video opens to a blank white with a dim shadow at the left corners. It is a moving shadow. There is a faint, muffled rustling sound, and a black, fluid shape - a bedsheet - flutters. Now the indecipherable, severe mutterings of a man's voice can be heard.

The video feed jerks sharply. A bare, hairy foot kicks at the screen, gnarled toes grasping. There is an odd scraping, clanging sound in the background.]

Wretched bitch will pay for this, I swear it!

[The speaker, whose face and body is not visible beyond that reaching foot, does not seem to be aware of any voyeurs this morning.]

Comments

[scientize.livejournal.com]

[Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to wake up after this last week of unending sleep and pleasant dreams.

And judging from that vicious bit of name calling, not quite as well-rested as the woman had hoped he would wake up to be.]

Good morning, dear. Sleep well?

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

You like this too much, you imp!

[The voice snaps in from stage left.]

You slipped me something last night! Was it in the wine? What did you want from it? My hair and whiskers do not feel any shorter this time.

[scientize.livejournal.com]

[So grouchy, husband.

Though he can't see it, Naomi is already on her way out of her laboratory to come and release him from this potentially embarrassing scenario.]

I did no such thing. [Fond memory though.] You've been dead asleep for over a week now, hogging the entire bed to yourself.

I should have gotten my own revenge just for that while I had the chance.

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

[That is a sobering thought, and the foot abruptly stills. A brief silence reigns.]

A week, [Javert breathes dryly from off-screen. The bed mattress creaks, and there is a light rattle from the gift Naomi did bestow on him in his sleep.] A splitting migraine and a sore wrist for a week! Apparently the rest does me no good.

Tell me! Have I gotten the boot for my absence? Where is my pink slip?

[scientize.livejournal.com]

[Oh, stop being so melodramatic, Javert. And by the way, the sore wrist is a pretty new edition.]

No, of course not. Your bitch of a wife made a call to the Chief Prosecutor to explain your absence the moment I saw what was going on. And then I made sure to send those reports and files you'd brought home right back to the office for them to deal with.

[video... sort of]

[chainsawofdeath.livejournal.com]

Sweetheart, nobody wants to see that... ♥



Speaking of your wretched bitch, what's her problem? Why has she been acting so peculiar as of late~??

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

I don't keep my wife on a leash, [The French-accented voice says curtly. It is a thoughtless, offhanded remark.

Then a beat passes. Silence reigns.

It's not as if Javert has a clear view of the Dreamberry, dear Grell. When the Inspector (after all, that foot must belong to a man) processed the unexpected tinny voice from his Dreamberry speakers, he froze. The hush descended. Though Grell cannot see a face, he might envision a narrowing of the eyes, a contraction of thinned dread in Javert's expression.]

You will tell me something now, [Javert commands, detached and cold.] Did this device make a public bulletin?

[chainsawofdeath.livejournal.com]

Oh, calm down!!



Sweetheart, do you really have to ask a question with such an obvious answer? I would not have contacted you, otherwise... ♥

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

[Javert hisses a muffled, distant-sounding curse. The foot jerks out of sight of the feed, and instead a hand drops down to the side of the bed with a telling chain-rattle. If Grell were to look closely at the video, he might see something that looks like leopard pelt wrapped around Javert's wrist.]

Oh! Sure! Very capital. It grants me a very capital opportunity to publicly announce my morning toilette, [is his deadpan remark. The truth is, the Inspector is rather humiliated that such a personal affair is on display for all to see. It simply isn't proper or decent for a man of his position.

There is a thoughtful silence, while Javert's quick head attempts to discern a way out of this fine dilemma.] You say my wife is acting peculiar? Send that woman to me. I will judge if it is true.

[alphaophiuchi]

With all due respect, I don't think that's very nice to declare of anyone. [ever the sweet, innocent troll.]

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

Then I shall remind myself to say it away from your tender ears, [Javert retorts dryly. By now, he has already learned of the severe blunder of dropping his Dreamberry over the side of the bed. Of course the damn device would switch on and broadcast him at this most depraved and degraded predicament.

A chain clinks in the background, and the Inspector continues,]

I don't recall calling myself a genteel or gallant man.

[alphaophiuchi]

I don't recall you calling yourself much, to be fair. [presence of chains duly noted, if not a tad odd.]

Being that you and I have had very few conversations in the past.

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

Indeed! I'm aware that you have a marked preference for that wench-wife of mine.

[A snort, and another rattle. Javert's thick hand drops into view of the video feed, off the edge of the bed, but it is suspended at an awkward angle, his wrist above both his elbows and extended fingers.

... And what the hell is that fuzzy cuff around that wrist, spotted like a leopard?]

I will admit that she makes more pleasing company than me. Now I want to keep this short: Do you know where she is tucking herself away?

[solidarity.livejournal.com]

[Hello, Javert's foot. You are looking kind of gross, but fortunately, Snake doesn't care. He's just glad to see that his friend is awake.

...Wait, what did he say?]

You're not talking about Naomi, are you?

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

What! Who are you? I recognize that voice. Is it David?

[This is completely indecent and undignified. The foot swings out of view.]

You must be joking. Unless you know another devilish tart with access to my flat.

[solidarity.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it's me.

[From his brief conversation with Naomi and the fact that Javert seems incapable of addressing the Dreamberry with his face, it's not too difficult to figure out what happened.]

She cuffed you to the bed, huh?

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

[Javert's tone is brusque.] So it seems. You know her schemes! Does she carry the keys with her? Or do you think her the sort to conceal them here?

[prosecutes]

[Hello, Javert's foot. You look absolutely disgusting and Edgeworth would recommend that you get a pedicure and apply lotion or something, but this isn't the time to mention something like that. He will just think it very loudly.]

Welcome back, Inspector.

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

[What an excellent way to greet your boss after an unexpected vacation: With Javert, humbled and humiliated and in a state of undress, and his superior looking down his nose at a bare foot.

Positively splendid! Javert replies respectfully with perhaps a twinge of bitter embarrassment, his foot moving away from the video feed,]

A fine welcome it is, Monsieur.

[prosecutes]

[He doesn't know why Javert can't face him, and really, he doesn't mind too much. It certainly is nice to have that foot out of view, though.]

It shall also be a brief one. Somarium is currently under attack by citizens who seem possessed by something we have yet to understand. Spending much time outdoors, particularly after nightfall, is not advised.

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

I must ask you to leave a copy of the report on my desk. I am held up, Monsieur. There is... someone I must meet before I am to come in today.

[assworthsaving]

[Oh, hey, Jav's up! He feels a bit anxious considering both Javert and Elena went into a coma around the same time. Perhaps that meant she would be waking up soon...

In any case, the treasure hunter decides to greet the old guy with a chipper voice, just to tease, despite his cursing.]

Well, look who's finally awake. Morning, sunshine.

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

Ah! This man I recognize, [Javert barks crisply. At least this time, it is a man that has already witnessed the good Inspector in a rather degraded and humiliating condition.

Small comforts, in his predicament. Javert would prefer that he maintain his irreproachable and unimpeachable character to each and every member of the public he meets. The Inspector's foot dangles slightly to the left, and the bed wriggles. His voice sounds slightly strained, as if he were reaching for something.]

What the Devil do you mean, Drake? [he asks coldly, a note of melancholy in his tone. There is a mysterious clang of metal in the background.] Flattered as I am that you noticed my tardiness, it may shock you that I do in fact require roughly three hours' worth of rest each night. An hour or two extra here and there, though unforgivable for my profession, is hardly a shocking consequence.

[A beat. His voice grows frigid and hard as a realization occurs to him.]

--Unless you mean to say my absence was an extended one.

[assworthsaving]

[Confused at first, he simply makes a face expressing that when he suddenly realizes, before Javert even, that the man wouldn't have had anyway of knowing how long he had been asleep for.

So it really was like an extended sleep. Good.]

Does almost two weeks count as extended? I was beginning to think you stumbled across some mysterious keg of liquor. Good thing you weren't out for twenty years, right?

[chose-death.livejournal.com]

Two weeks! [he cries, aghast.] I don't miss two weeks! [Not while he has been in Somarium, in any case. Prior to entering, however, he had been dead for a good one-hundred-eighty years.] Damn that waif of a girl! I must get out of here.

Drake, [he snaps abruptly.] Do you know a dark-haired, dark-skinned woman? She is a medical doctor. Very social.