Chapter Text
It’s Sunday and on Sundays the tattoo shop is usually closed unless there are some special appointments made. However, today there aren’t any so Feuilly is planning to spend most of the day catching up with some TV Series and writing his essay on the history evening classes. Percy, the cat he adopted a while ago, jumps on the sofa and curls next to him. She lies there purring from time to time and demanding Feuilly’s attention. He mindlessly scratches her behind the ear only half focusing on the TV screen when he hears the doorbell. He groans as Percy jumps off the sofa and runs towards the doors ready to hiss at whoever dared to disturb them.
On his way to the doors Feuilly picks her up and settles under his arm. As he undo the lock he expects to see hangover Grantaire or Eponine with Gavroche asking him for taking the boy into custody for the day. However, a woman in front of him isn’t similar to any of them. If he’d be honest, he would say she doesn’t remind him of anyone.
She’s standing there, the black leather satchel tugged under her left arm mirroring the position he’s holding Percy in. She smiles at him, before saying in a husky voice:
“Hi, I’m looking for a guy named Bahorel. I didn’t mix up the addresses, did I?”
“Nah, but he’s not here right now.” Feuilly answers mentally thanking himself for holding the cat. If this is one of those girls his flat mate pissed off maybe she’ll be tactful enough not to throw whatever she planned on throwing at the person with an animal. Thought he may be wrong concluding from the way she looks. She reminds him of the lecturer from the sophomore year: the women so naturally coldly elegant and sedated, that the time she laughed in his class presence for the first time freaked them all out enough not to talk to the end of said lecture.
Nonetheless the woman seems to be disappointed with the information in completely non-aggressive way. She sighs offering Feuilly half smile.
“That’s bad,” she decides but doesn’t leave yet. The redhead is confused. She doesn’t seem like anyone Bahorel usually hangs out with. Neither is she the type he’s hooking up with from time to time. She doesn’t look like his university or gym friends. Truth to be told, she looks out of place here, in front of him, in front of Bahorel’s flat and Feuilly can’t imagine this all in all elegant, small and so composed woman talking to or even being in the presence of his loud, tank build friend. Maybe it’s politeness maybe curiosity but he blurts out before she decides to go:
“Do you maybe want me to pass him something?”
“Um…” She starts, shifting slightly nervously. “That would be nice of you but these are pretty detailed information, more of directions in fact, and I really don’t want him to get them messed up.”
“Oh,” Is all Feuilly can say.
“Do you mind if I.. uhm…” She licks her lips, clearly uncomfortable with the words that are going to leave her mouth. “Would it be a problem if I stepped in and wrote it down so you could pass him it later? I won’t be able to drop it by anytime soon. He doesn’t pick up the phone and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to contact him later either.”
“No, no. I mean come in,” he agrees stepping back to let her in.
She smiles at him with the one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen as she passes him by.
“We don’t really own a table so use the bar top,” he instructs her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“That’s because I didn’t say it,” she smiles taking of her black coat and putting it on the bar stool next to the one she decides to sit on. She’s wearing one of this perfectly matched outfits where the white shirt is put into the black leather skirt secured by equal belt with golden buckle. The collar of her jacket is also leather as it duplicating the texture of the skirt just like knee boots she’s wearing. All the details are measured: tiny golden earrings match the color of the watch on her wrist and the buckle. She has a French manicure that either is just made or she is really careful when it comes to her hands which might be the point since they both seem very neat. It hits Feuilly again how much she’s out of the picture sitting in clean but still not the most elegant kitchen annex having her legs crossed and back straightened.
“So…” He starts awkwardly, “what is it, then?”
She smiles again and it’s the same bright smile that before.
“Lea,” she offers, “it’s nice of you asking me that question, Feuilly. Do you maybe have a pen?”
He puts Percy on the ground and heads to the cupboard next to the TV.
“Don’t you need a paper too?” He asks as he gives her the only pen he’s sure is working placing himself in front of her.
“No, thanks. I’ve got my own,” she pulls the stationery out of her satchel and picks one set only to hide the rest back. “You might think it’s weird to carry that stuff around but I prefer the word unusual.”
He laughs letting Percy to jump into his lap and then onto the bar top. The cat smells Lea’s hand, the one she’s not holding the pen in, before tugging its head under it demanding attention. She smiles scratching the pet which decides to lie down just in front of her. Feuilly draws his hands to take Percy away but Lea just shakes her head.
“If you’re going to take her, because you think she’s bothering me then don’t,” she puts the satchel on the right side of the cat and starts writing. “I don’t really mind. “
He smiles, looking at her with even more curiosity than before.
“I also don’t mind you talking,” she adds after a while. “This silence isn’t awkward yet but you know… If you want to ask me anything or so, go on, Feuilly.”
She puts up her gaze only once, drifting it across the room barely stopping at the redhead’s face before coming back to the paper.
“I’m just wondering how did you met Bahorel,” Feuilly eventually decides to say.
“At the bar,” she smirks not looking away from the paper. “Which is not that surprising, you must admit.”
“No. It’s not. It’s just he’s never mentioned you and, don’t get me wrong, but it’s weird since you know my name and that the cat is actually she,” he blurts out and now when he said it out loud it sounds even weirder.
“Well, he mentioned both you and Percy few times and I’ve got good memory. And you haven’t asked me yet for how long do we know each other.”
Lea winks at him putting the paper into the envelope. She doesn’t bother to close it properly, just folds the top flap.
“How long do you know each other, then?”
She laughs. It’s surprising how loud and deep her laugh is and Feuilly find himself smiling, the sound escaping her lips making him relaxed and gleeful.
“I won’t give you that,” Lea says after she stops laughing. “That’d be too easy.”
She stands up grabbing her coat and satchel. She hands him the envelope.
“It was really nice to meet you in person. Don’t bother walking me to the doors,” she adds as she notices him standing up. “I know the way.”
She pets Percy one more time before walking out of the tiny kitchen annex and smiles once more as she walks through the doors.
“See you around,” he bids her goodbye.
“Hope so,” she replies and the doors go shut.
It briefly crosses his mind to read the letter.
Bahorel comes back the next evening. His entry is announced by the carpetbag being dropped mildly aggressively on the floor and the loud groan as he lies down next to it.
“If I will ever again want to go to visit my sister, will you, please, punch me in the face with a pan?”
“I would but we have only one pan so you know.” Feuilly answers kicking him lightly in the ribs. Bahorel grunts in response. The redhead laughs and adds: “You had a visitor yesterday.”
“She actually came here?”
“Yeah and…”
“… she left the letter.”
“How do you know?” Feuilly is surprised. He’d put his money that Bahorel is smirking into the carpet now. “She stepped by, wrote it and then left.”
“You’ve let Lea in?” he raises himself on his forearms, looking at his flat mate with surprise and something very similar to worry.
“Yes…”
“Give it to me.” Bahorel orders and the other man finds himself suddenly being very curious about the envelope’s content. He however he passes it to his flat mate without trying to find it out knowing that this kind of behavior can cost him some bruises and maybe even a broken bone.
Even if Bahorel is surprised the envelope isn’t closed he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes out the paper and reads it quickly, his eyes don’t stop moving until he finishes the last line. Then he lets out a shaky laugh.
“You’re not going to tell me what’s in it, are you?” Feuilly asks.
“You had a goddamn day to read it. You’ve lost your chance.”
It earns him another light kick in the ribs and he laughs again pressing the paper against his chest.