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Javert has been assigned door to door questioning, supposedly because he’s newly transferred and his superior wants him to get to know the area he’ll patrol. But it’s more likely because he said some unflattering things when he was introduced to his new co-workers. Either way, he’s not one to hold a grudge and the law is the law so he’ll do this however tiresome it is. He’s not sure which is worse, the houses with small children that scream to no ends or the elderly that coddle him and want to tell him about their youth.
It’s getting rather late, he’s at the end of his shift and briefly considers not going up to the next house. But he does it anyway. By default he straightens his uniform, and dusts of his hat before he rings the doorbell. He can hear heavy, rushed steps approaching from the other side. The door opens inwards and shows a man of great built. Javert can’t help feel relived that it’s not a child or an elderly.
“Good evening, Monsieur, my name is Javert and I’ll be the---“ He’s rudely interrupted during his self presentation.
“I know, I know, not so loud.”
The man seems vary and Javert gives him a suspicious look. Perhaps he’s seen something he shouldn’t and wish to report it anonymously.
“May I come in, monsieur..?” Javert goes for the polite approach and gives the man his best smile.
“Of course, of course, and my name is Jean Valjean.” The man, Jean Valjean, moves so that Javert can step inside and close the door behind him.
“May I offer you something? Tea? Dinner? No, forgive me you’re on the hour”
Valjean’s face colours into a deep red and he avoids looking at Javert, which of course only heightens the suspicion. Unsure how to approach Valjean he follows him through the house until Valjean speaks again:
“This has never happened to me before, how does it work?”
“I’ll start off by asking monsieur some questions.”
Javert walks passed Valjean, not stopping until they’re face to face so he can read his face when he speaks. Valjean’s truly agitated, looking Javert over nervously and when their eyes meet he looks away like he’s embarrassed or like he’s been caught doing something wrong.
“A-as you wish, officer.”
There’s an odd smile on Valjean’s face, as if he’s mocking him. But Javert chooses to ignore it, it’s been along day and he’s tired.
“Well then, do you live alone monsieur Valjean?” He takes out his notebook and pen to write down the answers, but not before adding today’s date: 24.6.01 (24th of June 2001, live with it!)
“No, sir, I live with my daughter Cosette” Halfway through his sentence Valjean looks like he’s said something he shouldn’t and quickly adds “but she won’t be back tonight, it’s just me tonight.”
“I see” Yet again with the odd way Valjean speaks, Javert shakes the thought away and scribbles everything down. “Next question, have you---“
“Ever broken the law?”
Javert frowns, he’s really not fond of being interrupted but he lets it go.
“Yes, have you?”
Valjean smiles like a giddy child, nervous and overeager.
“I have, officer, I’ve been bad.”
If Javert was like any other man he’d take that as a cue and leave, but he’s not. He simply just finds Valjean odd and continues his questions looking at him sternly.
“What crime did you commit, monsieur?”
“You’re not going to handcuff me? Or take out your… nightstick?”
Valjean answers him with questions of his own, pointing at what to Javert assumes is his baton on his belt.
“Monsieur, be serious…” He sighs, this is bordering on ridiculous, is this man somehow impaired? “… and it’s called a baton.”
Javert puts his notebook and pen away, hands falling on his belt and one might say he’s posing. From Valjean’s flushed look one would say they’re right. Something crosses over Valjean’s features, a slow realisation of the situation. He’s blushing more fiercely than maiden.
“Oh God, you’re not…”
Valjean stutters and backs away, hands hurrying to cover his face, obviously embarrassed about some new found knowledge.
“I’m not what, monsieur?”
Javert follows his movements, stepping after him until he has Valjean cornered against the wall. His mind telling that this is not protocol, not like he think Valjean would press charges against him. The man seems too timid for that.
“Not the stripper?”
The sentence is barely a whisper and if Javert wasn’t standing so close he wouldn’t have heard it. All of sudden Valjean’s behaviour becomes clear; his rushing to the door, his eagerness to get Javert inside, away from prying eyes and the things he’s said. Dear God, Valjean was not making a mistake by saying nightstick. Javert takes a step back, groans and face-palms. It’s not graceful or anything.
“No, I’m not. I’m the new officer assigned to patrol this neighbourhood.”
Valjean cowers, he looks like he’s about to die. He probably could with the way his blush spreads and burns him bright. Javert just continues to speak, hoping it’ll ease Valjean’s embarrassment.
“If you have any questions regarding police matters feel free to contact me…”
Valjean keeps whispering ‘oh god’ over and over again. It’s starting to get on Javert’s nerves; this man showed such promise when he opened the door. He looks at his watch and behold, his shift has ended he’s not ‘on the hour’ any more. He quickly takes out his notebook again and writes down his number, ripping the paper off, the sound making Valjean flinch.
“Monsieur Valjean…”
Javert’s voice softens, encouraging Valjean to look at him and when he does, such a sight Javert’s given. He hands the paper to Valjean and leans in far too close to be professional.
“You may contact me for other matters as well”.
He leans back, tips his hat and with a grin on his face leaves a shocked, furiously blushing Valjean to deal with his not so subtle boner. Javert can’t wait to see if he’ll get a nervous call from Jean Valjean. He’s humming to himself all the way back to the station.