[ There's a pause as Grantaire inclines his head, as though he's searching his mind for the answer. While he holds certain mementoes close to his heart, almost all of his memories exist beneath a fog of wine, leaving the finer details lost to him. He's certain he recalls the gala, though, and he's certain he recalls begging for more than one kiss. ]
I recall being there, and I recall you being there.
A discussion of magic. In particular how it may make individuals behave in ways they usually would not.
[There's the briefest pause, almost hesitant to bring this up. He hasn't thought about it since the night, but the recent conversation made him think of it and he couldn't leave it alone. He presses on:] The glitter being thrown about was magical. I felt no effects myself, so I thought to ask if you did and what it might be like. After all You embraced me. I'd thought nothing of it, but now I wonder, was it due to a magical influence?
[It's part of finding a way to stop it, understanding it. Tell him how being controlled by magic feels, please.]
[ Now it’s Grantaire’s turn to pause, for far longer this time. Without the alcohol to pull him down, his expression might even be thoughtful. ]
Did you find my behavior to be so out of character that it must have been beneath the influence of anything other than wine?
[ He’s embraced his friends before, but never Enjolras. Never by any other means. It never seemed right to pull someone who soared so high down to his own earthly level. Something did compel him on the night of the gala, but— ]
I do not believe such things exist, Enjolras.
[ This world seems intent on forcing him to believe, but he isn’t ready to be forced out of the comfort of his nihilistic state of being. To believe in nothing, only to realize that he’s been wrong all along is terribly disconcerting and best left ignored for the time being. ]
[A huff of air escapes him as he takes in the response.] Imagine that- to have things not exist just because you don't believe in them. That would be a better end to monarchy than revolution. [Though he doesn't like magic either. He doesn't like the imbalance he suspects it puts in the world.
But to the point-] This isn't the first time you've been drunk. [It was the first time he'd embraced him. Therefore it couldn't just be the wine.]
[ This isn’t the first time I’ve not believed in something, he thinks, but he doesn’t say. It’s difficult for him to allow himself to believe at all. He’s lived too long without belief, clinging to his faith in Enjolras alone, so he shuns the very thought despite how very obvious it may be. Magic is very obvious here, but Grantaire blinds himself to it due to habit alone. ]
Good company and good cheer can enhance the effects of good wine, and atmosphere alone can make people behave in ways they ordinarily might not.
[ That isn’t exactly a lie, but he knows it’s not the truth in this instance. He did feel something different. ]
You said yourself that you felt no effects, Enjolras. Why do you think it's magic?
A discussion I had with a fellow refugee. He complained of the numerous natural and unnatural ways in which individual's amorous propensities were inflamed in and around Wyver, often without their knowledge. He mentioned the gala and those throwing glitter.
[And since he refuses to consider any of that nonsense because he has better things to do, he thought of you.]
[ It’s still early in the day, but Grantaire already wants a drink, just to be certain that his lack of belief remains intact. It’s almost foreboding, the way, how belief keeps trying to worm its way into his mind. He wouldn’t know what to do with it. ]
I cannot say what happened to others, but whatever I felt, it was surely only the wine.
[ Deny, deny, deny. It can't be the work of magic anyway, he tells himself. He never even got that second kiss, and he wouldn't mind it still. ]
[ He pauses, giving the question a brief amount of thought before responding with a soft smile. ]
Perhaps.
[ It's a vague answer, but it's difficult for him to say what the truth is. He won't allow himself to believe in the idea of magic, but he had felt something on the night of the gala. He's always felt a pull to Enjolras, though. That's the trouble. What had made this any different, beyond the fact that he had actually acted upon it? ]
How can one say truly, with all this talk of magic and of wine?
As many things can often be. How can one distinguish the difference between love and admiration?
[ Listen—he literally has no idea. ]
Or even at times, the difference between terror and admiration. They can be one in the same. Perhaps this was two things at once as well. Is it ever truly as simple as we wish it to be?
[ If Grantaire could stay on topic, they would probably argue with one another all day, but that’s just the thing. Grantaire cannot stay on topic. He veers off so wildly sometimes, it’s impossible to trace the conversation back to its origins. ]
I only make things as simple as life itself makes them, Enjolras.
Any other is bound to be a more agreeable man than me.
[ He halfway wishes he could agree, but he can't bring himself to lie to Enjolras. For as much as Grantaire reveres him, he should be able to muster up more for him than he does, but he just can't figure out how.
Still, he pauses, unwilling to let the conversation go just yet. ]
Ask me again. Ask me again in a month.
[ A month won't turn him into a believer, but maybe something can spark something in him. ]
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The night of the gala. Do you remember it?
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I recall being there, and I recall you being there.
[ He smiles most pleasantly. ]
Why do you ask now?
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[There's the briefest pause, almost hesitant to bring this up. He hasn't thought about it since the night, but the recent conversation made him think of it and he couldn't leave it alone. He presses on:] The glitter being thrown about was magical. I felt no effects myself, so I thought to ask if you did and what it might be like. After all You embraced me. I'd thought nothing of it, but now I wonder, was it due to a magical influence?
[It's part of finding a way to stop it, understanding it. Tell him how being controlled by magic feels, please.]
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Did you find my behavior to be so out of character that it must have been beneath the influence of anything other than wine?
[ He’s embraced his friends before, but never Enjolras. Never by any other means. It never seemed right to pull someone who soared so high down to his own earthly level. Something did compel him on the night of the gala, but— ]
I do not believe such things exist, Enjolras.
[ This world seems intent on forcing him to believe, but he isn’t ready to be forced out of the comfort of his nihilistic state of being. To believe in nothing, only to realize that he’s been wrong all along is terribly disconcerting and best left ignored for the time being. ]
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But to the point-] This isn't the first time you've been drunk.
[It was the first time he'd embraced him. Therefore it couldn't just be the wine.]
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Good company and good cheer can enhance the effects of good wine, and atmosphere alone can make people behave in ways they ordinarily might not.
[ That isn’t exactly a lie, but he knows it’s not the truth in this instance. He did feel something different. ]
You said yourself that you felt no effects, Enjolras. Why do you think it's magic?
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[And since he refuses to consider any of that nonsense because he has better things to do, he thought of you.]
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I cannot say what happened to others, but whatever I felt, it was surely only the wine.
[ Deny, deny, deny. It can't be the work of magic anyway, he tells himself. He never even got that second kiss, and he wouldn't mind it still. ]
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[And as frustrated as he'd like to be (knowing how magic influences people would really help) he's aware that in this case it might just be the wine.]
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[ He can admit to that. He's made it obvious enough in all the time they've known one another, after all. ]
I do believe in you.
[ Grantaire, this is not the time. ]
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Perhaps.
[ It's a vague answer, but it's difficult for him to say what the truth is. He won't allow himself to believe in the idea of magic, but he had felt something on the night of the gala. He's always felt a pull to Enjolras, though. That's the trouble. What had made this any different, beyond the fact that he had actually acted upon it? ]
How can one say truly, with all this talk of magic and of wine?
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It is simple. Either it was magic, and something you've not experience before or it wasn't. I'd not have thought that hard to distinguist.
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[ Listen—he literally has no idea. ]
Or even at times, the difference between terror and admiration. They can be one in the same. Perhaps this was two things at once as well. Is it ever truly as simple as we wish it to be?
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A sigh-] Not the way you talk about it.
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I only make things as simple as life itself makes them, Enjolras.
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I'll find someone else to ask.
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[ He halfway wishes he could agree, but he can't bring himself to lie to Enjolras. For as much as Grantaire reveres him, he should be able to muster up more for him than he does, but he just can't figure out how.
Still, he pauses, unwilling to let the conversation go just yet. ]
Ask me again. Ask me again in a month.
[ A month won't turn him into a believer, but maybe something can spark something in him. ]