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The quiet murmur from Grantaire’s Assassin’s Creed served as a nice background noise. Enjolras was on the couch beside him, fidgeting with the strings of his signature red hoodie, puzzlement clear on his face as he watched Grantaire’s character walk around. Courfeyrac and Marius were sitting at the table, making small conversations, while Combeferre had his reading glasses on, head buried in his book.
“You know what you should do, R?” Enjolras broke the calming ambience, chin rested on his fist looking visibly bored. “You should go over there, and you should kill the king.”
Grantaire sighed.
“No, I can’t just-”
“You can go to the palace, right? If you can do anything, you should just go to the palace, and go ahead and off the king. That’ll save a lot of-”
Grantaire rolled his eyes.
“Enjolras, I can’t-”
“A lot of troubles and efforts down the line.”
“Well I can’t just kill the king. I have things I have to do,” Grantaire explained.
“What do you mean?” Enjolras asked in the most incredulous voice he could manage.
“I have missions I have to do. If I just go and kill the king, it will just fuck up-”
He was cut off by a dramatic scoff from Enjolras.
“I think it’s your duty, as a citizen of France, to just go ahead and, like, it’s called Assassin’s Creed, right? So you just assassinate the guy!”
Grantaire thought he deserved an award for being the most patient boyfriend in the universe.
“Have you ever played Assassin’s Creed, Marius?” Courfeyrac asked as Grantaire and Enjolras kept debating.
“No. It seems kind of mean,” Marius shrugged.
“Fine!” Enjolras’ call of defeat drew everyone’s attention. “If you can’t do that, you could at least – is there time travel in this game? – you can time travel and go take care of somebody else.”
“There’s no time travel-”
“Can you kill Napoleon?” Combeferre, who had been silent all this time, finally piped in.
“Yes, exactly!” Enjolras agreed excitedly.
“There’s no time travel-”
“Let’s go!” Enjolras cut off Grantaire’s futile attempt of explaining the game.
“-in this game.”
“June 18, 1815!”
“That’s not an element.”
“Yes, go back to Waterloo!” Courfeyrac chimed in.
“Push the little buttons and off we go. We can get him!” Enjolras pushed on.
“I can’t just go around killing random people!” Grantaire exclaimed, “I get penalised in the game if I do that.”
“Okay, but he’s not a person? He’s a criminal.”
“Kill the dick!” Courfeyrac yelled in support, starting a chant with Enjolras, completely ignoring Grantaire’s facepalm.
Marius suddenly stood up, distressed.
Courfeyrac’s concerned gaze trailed after Marius as he walked over to the white board. On it, “I <3 Ursula” was written, with “Ursula” crossed out and “Cosette?” beside it. Next to it was a poorly drawn blob. Marius put his next to it and whispered, “Corsica.”
Coufeyrac finally teared his gaze away from Marius, his eyes full of confusion as he caught Enjolras’ eyes, who was equally confused.
Marius seemed to not have noticed the exchange as he continued, his face almost touching the whiteboard.
“The island which has rendered france. Very great.”
Combeferre didn’t even bother hiding the disgust on his face.
“France doesn’t need Corsica to be great, dumbass! France is great, because it’s fucking France!” Enjolras rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, no no no! I'm not trying- I would never say shit- bad about France, or anything like that!”
Courfeyrac stared at Marius, silently begging him to sit back down.
Marius continued.
“But, saying Napoleon is a part of France and part of its history doesn’t make France any… less… great…”
If stares could kill, Marius would have perished by Enjolras’ sharp gaze.
Alas, stares could not kill, and Marius could not read the room.
“Let’s just have a discussion about this, yeah? Right? So, I know that I’m kinda like a newcomer-”
No words could do the confusion Courfeyrac and Enjolras shared justice.
“-but I think this is an important talking point! Where do we stand?”
What is happening? Combeferre mouth, shocked that the usually silent boy was going on a rant.
“Who are we? Who are you? Who am I? I mean, come on, let's just-”
Courfeyrac turned his laptop around, showing what he had typed: YOU DID THIS TO US. As if his point needed emphasis, he pointed at Combeferre and mouthed you.
“-we're all, like, young dudes, like-”
Me? Combeferre mouthed disbelievingly.
“-where's our enthusiasm? And what are you doing with it?”
Grantaire quickly scrawled, How Could You? on his sketchbook, looking at Combeferre with a deadpan stare, though the mirth in his eyes was undeniable.
“Don't we, like, who do you admire if you don’t admire the Emperor? I mean, he's everything! He was, like, a complete dude!”
Combeferre pressed a hand on his chest. I’m sorry, he mouthed.
“He had brains – he had immense brain power, he had, was like, he made coats-”
Enjolras pulled his hood over his head.
“-he was like, he spoke like a, he was like Caesar-”
Grantaire stared into space.
“-he taught Emperors-”
Courfeyrac whistled, drawing Grantaire’s attention.
“-he knew maths! He was really good at science! He was a lawyer, and he knew what the stars are and everything. He was a fucking genius!”
Courfeyrac turned his laptop, showing the words, DO YOU GUYS WANNA GET SOMETHING TO EAT?
“But it didn't prevent him from, like, being a good-natured person! He made Europe freaking frightened of, like, what was gonna happen!”
Grantaire nodded, nudging Enjolras to draw his attention to Courfeyrac’s question.
“He was an intense military leader!”
As Enjolras and Combeferre both nodded their agreements, Courfeyrac turned his laptop back to himself and started typing.
“He galloped through storms! He had two wings and a grand army, and he was the archangel of war!”
Marius finally stopped to catch his breath, leaving the room in a tense silence.
Enjolras looked around, gauging everyone’s reactions, before facing Marius.
“M-”
“I mean, just be real, guys!”
Enjolras sank into his hoodie, pulling its strings tighter.
“What an amazing destiny for our nation!”
Courfeyrac whistled again, turning his laptop to reveal what he had been typing. I HAVE A FULL PUNCH CARD… COUPON… THINGY… 4 THE NOODLE PLACE DOWN THE STREET, a puckish grin on his face.
“To be such a freaking Emperor, when the nation is France, and adds to his own, like, genius! Into the genius of that man! To appear and to reign, to march and to triumph, to have halting places at all the capitals, to decree the falls of dynasties-”
Grantaire nodded.
“-to transfigure Europe into a place of change-”
Combeferre gave a thumbs up, but paused when he thought of a question. Is it going to be free? He mouthed.
“-to make you feel, that when you threaten, or lay hands upon the hilt of the sword of God-”
Courfeyrac stared at Combeferre. What?
“-to follow a single man Hannibal, Caesar and Charlemagne-”
Combeferre repeated his question, exaggerating his articulation and even miming the words.
“-to be the person of someone who mingles with your dawns-”
Courfeyrac cleared off what he typed, and gestured to Combeferre to repeat the question yet again.
“-the startling announcement of a battle won!”
IS, Combeferre mouthed, nodding as Courfeyrac correctly typed it down.
“To have the cannons of the Invalides rouse you into the morning, to hurl deepest of light words which flame forever-”
IT. Another nod.
“-to cause constellations of victories-”
GOING. So far so good.
“-to flash forth to each instant from the zenith of the centuries-”
TO. They were getting there.
“-to make the French Empire a pendant to the Roman Empire-”
BE. Just one more word.
“-to be the great nation, to give birth to the grand army-”
Appal didn’t even begin to describe Courfeyrac’s face as he slowly and hesitantly typed out, FEET.
Combeferre shuddered in disgust.
“-to make its legion to fly forth all of the earth, as a mountain sends out its eagles on all sides-”
Combeferre mouthed again, even miming the action of money flying out of his hands.
“-to conquer the war twice by conquest! I mean, that's freaking amazing!”
Courfeyrac deleted FEET, staring intensely at Combeferre.
“Is there anything greater than that?”
“To be free,” said Combeferre.
Understanding dawned on Courfeyrac’s face before he froze, realising what had happened. Instantly, he snapped his head towards Marius.
Marius looked as if someone had punched all the air out of his gut.
Combeferre reeled back, waiting for Marius’ reaction.
Enjolras finally took off his hood, his jaw dropped as he glanced between Marius and Combeferre.
On Courfeyrac’s laptop were the words: OH MY GOD.
“I- Combeferre- you just-” Marius stuttered, losing the ability to form a full sentence.
“I mean- look man,” Combeferre said, deciding that since he wasn’t in the wrong, he wasn’t going to take back what he said or apologise to Marius. “I’m just telling it like it is. Don’t come in here with that shit – with that crap.”
The proud smile on Enjolras’ face was blinding.
“All that stuff you were saying – that was unacceptable.” Combeferre finished firmly, refusing to back down.
“Yeah,” Marius whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat as he rushed out of the room.
“Wait, wait, Marius, wait wait wait–” Courfeyrac attempted, and failed, to hold in his laughter as he followed after Marius.
“Wait, Courfeyrac, is it going to be free?” Combeferre asked, standing up.
“Yes, it’s going to be free! It’s for the funking punch card thingy!” Courfeyrac stopped in his tracks to reply.
“Yes! Then get me the spaghetti, please,” Combeferre asked, drawing out the “please”.
“Spaghetti, okay,” Courfeyrac repeated.
“Wait, Courfeyrac, get me the ravioli thingy!” Enjolras managed to choke out between breaths of laughter.
“Pesto gerolini, please,” Grantaire asked softly, hiding his giggles behind the controller.
“Fine, oh my god!” Courfeyrac laughed as he finally stepped out the room.