armedagainstlove | (no subject)

New to Paris, Athos is still learning the intricacies of a city after living so long in his home, removed from so much. And yet, he cannot go back there. There is death all around. He wonders, at times, how Catherine does it, but then, he has his own ways of coping and they resoundingly involve alcohol and plenty of it. Tonight has been no different, but after his third bottle, his directions grow muddled. The other Musketeers had left for their own devices (he recalls the big one citing a card game and the charming one leaving with a woman) while the others had merely ignored him.

And so, he has tried to follow the Seine back to the garrison.

He makes it to Rue Rivoli, but then doesn't recall whether he ought to be turning left or right. Eventually, he crosses a bridge and ends up in a quaint little courtyard in a place that smells of dyes and textiles. There is a seemingly comfortable pile of straw in the corner that Athos stumbles towards, clearing his throat as he curls his bottle in and beds down in this stranger's home. Surely they will take pity on him, if they were to find him.

If not, then he supposes it will only be one more reason that Paris will not work for him.

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He has not had a mothering touch in years. It is now a surprise to him, almost a visceral shock how her words assault him. They are unexpected, now, and make him feel a strange sensation that he might equate with gratitude, were Athos inclined to understand precisely what he is feeling. He finally nods slowly, thinking that perhaps despite the ache in his head, he must be a good guest.

"Tell me of you?" he suggests. "And your husband's business, of course," he allows, inviting propriety upon the situation.

When she had been all of a slip of a girl, long before she had ever married and while she had still been on the verge of taking up her apprenticeship, she had had a habit of twisting a bit of her skirt or apron between her hands while nervous. It was a habit she had fallen into once already in front of the Musketeer and had to actively fight against doing so again. Which was ridiculous, as far as she could see. It was her home, where he was a guest. Well, her husband's home, where she lived, but all the same. She was the mistress of the house and should have total control over at least her kitchen and her table.

Constance was a touch surprised that he might have any curiosity at all regarding her, blinking once before admitting, "There's not much to say, really." Such was true enough, and for a moment she was all too aware that she had not lived anything like an interesting life. "I've lived in Paris since I married Monsieur Bonacieux three years ago. Three older brothers." The usual marriage arranged by her father when she came of age, perhaps a bit younger than most, but she was hardly going to state the obvious there. Marrying for love was a luxury few were allowed, and not one she had ever seriously imagined she would have in her life. Not a bad life. Peaceful enough, really.

"My husband's a clothier, as you seem to have guessed already," there was a wealth of things she could not say there in regards to the man's business sense or his refusal to listen to any of her advice on such matters where it countermanded his decisions. "He does well enough, still building his reputation in the trade."

Athos nods, taking in the information as he built up a life in his head for the woman before him, imagining all the details put together in one piece as if a puzzle come to life. He wishes to know of her husband's business and her life, given that her generosity has been so good to him so as to care for him when others might simply allow him to have frozen on the streets of Paris. "Now I know of you and something of your husband's business. I am afraid, however, I have little to offer you in turn beyond that I am Athos of the King's Musketeers."

There is a life in his shadows, but it is one he has turned away from and hopes to see banished forever.

Where she had not find Paris as wholly unwelcoming as it might otherwise have been, Constance had been made aware time and time again that the city was unlike any other place she had seen before. Not that she had seen many places before, really, but that she had learned quickly enough that there was a certain extra layer of order (and disorder) in the city in all her uniqueness.

All of which came to a total that saw that she was something at a loss of what to say when spoken to so evenly on matters of her husband's business, nevermind herself. She knew how Monsieur Bonacieux preferred to do all the talking himself, and would have had a lengthy and detailed speech about his business, his reputation, and most importantly of himself. She could not fault him for such, she supposed, being well aware that they all lived and died by the reputations they earned (or were given to them).

Constance held back from pointing out that she was very much aware of the company to which he belonged, as, for all that it was no more than a few years old (little older than her marriage, coincidentally), one could not live in Paris and not recognize the blue cloak and the pauldron with its fleur-de-lis impression. "It is good to meet you, Athos." 'Pleasure' would have been a bit heavy-handed, but it felt as if she had needed an answer of more than a nod in reply.

"If you'll give me a few minutes..." she trailed off, gesturing with a hand vaguely toward the storerooms and the tasks she would have to finish before she could head out on the combined mission of her errands and guiding him.

Athos watches her movement with a slightly stunned look in his eye. She is a flurry of activity, as if the storm is descending upon him when he does not understand how one woman can cause so much action. Still, he is grateful for both her kindness in the past and the kindness she is going to show him. In truth, other than Treville, he has not amassed much kindness and can use anything that she has to offer.

He nods as politely as he might. "Take your time," he assures her. "I am not going anywhere, certainly not in the state I'm in."