III. But I don't like scenes, except on the stage.

[epigrammatical]

[In which Lord Henry treats the text feature as if it were a telegram service.]

[Text, private to Dorian Gray]
[This message is sent after two days' discreet waiting after Toby's arrival. Henry is not blind and definitely noticed Dorian's reaction, but (wisely, probably) did not interfere, and has allowed time to pass before approaching Dorian—and has also been studiously avoiding Toby. He has no idea whether his friend will answer, but even if he doesn't, that will tell him much of what he needs to know.]

Are you well? I do not wish to intrude, of course, but I could not help but notice a certain amount of recent excitement.

[Text, private to Alcuin nó Delaunay]
I hope this finds you well—would you be available to dine or for a drink sometime soon? I should like to hear of your progress with our yellow book.

[Open action nice choice and not so nice, post-trainwreck choice]

[ETA: Disturbing conversations about murder and possible eventual bad behaviour within.]

Comments

[epigrammatical]

[In the secret parts of his heart, Henry is just relieved that Javert didn't see fit to ask about his title. He wasn't looking forward to the inevitable need to explain that to someone. As for the boys—]

I have spoken to three of them myself. [Said mildly, no judgement passed, one way or the other.] Were I from a slightly less enlightened time I suppose I might object, but as it is, I welcome all arrivals equally. Particularly when their personalities are interesting.

[And in fact, wall-like demeanour aside, Henry finds Javert interesting—perhaps because of the incredible stoicism.]

[inseine]

Equal men in a foreign land where nationality counts for nothing, language barriers set aside. Fair.

[Javert barks a tinny laugh. Interesting is one way of putting it.]

Woe be to the boring ones that slip below your favor! Ah! Perhaps I count as one of those? Best leave before you decide either way. I don't mean to keep you past your time.

[And with that he starts making his way toward the exist. When he passes Lord Wotton, he pauses and tips his hat briskly accompanied by a small bow.]

Bonsoir and farewell to you.

[epigrammatical]

Au contraire, M. Javert, you do not bore me at all. [This is actually sincere.] And if it is not too much to ask, I should quite like your opinion on the Flaubert when you have read it. But I should not keep you either, if you have somewhere to be. You may find me here, or in the Fire sector in the future.

[inseine]

Wotton, was it? [Murmured aloud to help stamp it into his memory. He pauses at the door, fixing a contemplative arch of his brow toward Henry. Javert has always been exceptional with faces, but names took a mild amount of effort. He hms.] I am not much of a reader, haven't done any in a while. But you'll hear from me about this Flaubert gentleman.

[A terse grin returns to his face.]

You can figure your next recommendation on my review. Until then!

[He pulls his hat low over his face and makes his exit. Now that you've gotten his word, Wotton, you'll certainly receive a little note from him about the book. Certainly. Even if this decadent Flaubert epic, or indeed, most fiction, isn't quite something he's prone to enjoy.]

[epigrammatical]

[Lord Henry, he almost corrects Javert, but for once bites his tongue and watches him go with a smile, feeling oddly pleased with himself. And he genuinely can't wait to see what this fellow makes of Flaubert's historical fantasy.]