OOM: Javert in London for the scond time

[witchfinder_general]

It' the same featureless blue corridor as before, but this time, there are still people about in it.

Nobody, however, is paying any attention to them: two women with papers under their arms are chatting to each other, and a man is wheeling a trolley of scientific equipment into an open door.

Father Harman holds the door of the supply closet open for Javert.

Comments

[never_shall_yield]

'As a necessity, I would say.'

But he comes from a time where disease is rife as it is, vampires or no.

'I have never heard of otherwise, but I will take you at your word.'

[witchfinder_general]

"It is what we do," Father Harman says.

He stops. "We have to cross the street here."

Traffic is infinitely more busy than it was the other time, at night.

[never_shall_yield]

It is around as busy as Los Angeles was at night, the time he was lost there. But the road is more narrow, and everything feels more closed in. He is not an idiot though, and does not step in front of cars. He is simply at a loss as to how they will manage this.

'Do they never stop?'

[witchfinder_general]

"They come in waves, like flocks of birds," Father Harman says.

He's waiting at the curb, peering.

[never_shall_yield]

'England is very strange,' he remarks, dryly, and waits for Harman to make his move. It seems the safest option, even if being mown down by an automobile would not be the worst way for a man to die.

[witchfinder_general]

"Paris is the same," Father Harman says. "And there are places which are much worse. Rome. Dublin. St. Petersburg."

He steps off the curb and crosses the road, catching a lull in the traffic. With a nudge at his elbow, he encourages Javert to follow.

[never_shall_yield]

'It is irrelevant. I will never see them.'

In his time, or his own.

He was already about to move when the nudge comes, but because it is Father Harman he does not roll his eyes, and simply follows. On the other side, his gaze is arrested by...he does not know what it is, but it is black, and shiny, and low to the ground, and looks like it might go fast.

He adds a brief flash of covetousness to the list of things he must confess, just because he would quite like to touch it.

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman notices.

"Those are quite expensive, but many people like them a lot," he says. "Something of a status symbol: whoever can afford one of these has definitely made it."

[never_shall_yield]

'Made what?'

He averts his eyes. Status symbols do not interest him, but if wealthy gentleman wish them, they have that right. He just remembers that Ganymede claimed his own car could go at two hundred miles per hour, and has not yet proved it.

Also, he just finds himself interested by cars. Not to own. But to move around in. They are efficient.

[witchfinder_general]

"Made their way in the world," Father Harman says. "Achieved material success. Here in London there are many big banks that do global business and make fast money; that translates into quite a number of expensive sports cars. I don't know all the brands, but if it's got a little horse on its sign, it's a Ferrari."

[never_shall_yield]

'I see.'

He glances back at the car, then moves on.

'I am told they cost a lot of money, yes. It is immaterial. They are simply pleasing on the eye.'

Javert has no time for flowers or sunsets, but a sports car is a quite different kind of beauty. Just as untouchable, but far more real.

[witchfinder_general]

"I think there might be people in Milliways who have cars like that and might take you for a ride," Father Harman says, with a little smile.

To see Javert fascinated by fast cars is oddly moving. Something that is fun for him -- finally!

[never_shall_yield]

'Ganymede has one, and I have ridden in it. Perhaps I will again, I do not know.'

He will not hold out hope, and will certainly not ask, but there is a chance.

[witchfinder_general]

"Well, if you enjoyed it, I'm sure he'll take you for a ride again," Father Harman says.

[never_shall_yield]

'Mmm.'

The answer is entirely non-committal, and he will not be expanding on it.

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman is walking down a street on the middle of which there is a church -- the same as last time.

"I don't think riding in a fast car is very sinful. On a sliding scale from poking badgers with a spoon to genocide, it's still very close to the badgers," he volunteers, still slightly amused.

[never_shall_yield]

'...badgers with a spoon?'

What?

His confusion will be evident.

'I did not think it was sinful at all.'

Now he is unsure as to whether it is.

'Is it?'

[witchfinder_general]

"It's a joke that's so famous even I know it," Father Harman says. "A humorous misdefinition of 'original sin' as a sin that's so bizarre nobody's done it before."

[never_shall_yield]

'Oh.'

He looks blank.

'I suppose it is modern.'

[witchfinder_general]

"It's not so funny if it has to be explained," Father Harman says. "Never mind, it's not important."

[never_shall_yield]

'...very well.'

England. And the English. Very strange.

He starts looking up at the church, instead. A knot of apprehension begins to form, but he gives no sign of it as he walks.

[witchfinder_general]

When they reach the church, Father Harman walks up the steps and pushes open the door. "Shall I go get Father Meunier?" he offers.

[never_shall_yield]

'Yes, thank you.'

He does not feel right wandering around, searching out a priest.

'I will wait near the confessional.'

[witchfinder_general]

At this time of day, the church is somewhat busier than the other time, at night; a few people are lighting candles, or sitting in pews as if praying, or waiting for their turn at confession.

Father Harman soon returns with the French-Canadian priest. They are speaking, and Harman points out Javert with a minute gesture of his hand.

Father Meunier nods.

[never_shall_yield]

Javert, standing quietly, waits. He is nervous about this, but not as nervous as last time.

It is something that has to be done, and be done it will.