A/N: Written purely for fun, so historical inaccuracies may abound.
Any typos or grammatical mistakes are entirely my fault (feel free to eat me if you find any), and one line has been gleefully stolen from Victor Hugo.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the (bizarre) plot
And on with the show!
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Scrape…scrape…scraaaaape
…
…scraaaaape
Mme Thénardier pulled the rags out of her ears and leaned dismally against the wall of her cell. There really was no possibility of getting a decent night's sleep here, was there? Never mind the rats and bedlice, she'd just had to endure an hour or more of the desk sergeant's quill (a very badly sharpened quill from the sound of it) scritching and scratching away at some dammed report, and now some fool inmate had evidently decided to start scraping (filing?) away at something. Unfortunately, it sounded as though he was in the cell right next to hers.
Scritch…scrape….
…
Ahh. It seemed mystery scraper had finally dropped off to bed. Mme Thénardier smiled and settled down once more for a long and peaceful night's slee..
SCRAAAAAAAAAPE
Oh bloody hell. Consequences be damned, she was going to quiet this fool once and for all.
"OY ! SHUT IT will you! SOME of us'd like some sleep!"
…silence…
Footsteps approaching
Oh dear. She seemed to have awoken the guard. She turned to face the bars to…
Oh. Shit.
Said guard appeared to be the one who'd brought her in in the first place.
"You called, Mme Thénardier?" drawled the inspector.
"Oh… no sir, I was just having a nightmare… I must have cried out in my sleep…"
She broke off as the inspector raised one sardonic eyebrow.
"Well, if that's the case Mme, I should station myself right outside your cell to prevent any future reoccurrences, hm?"
It was then Mme Thénardier noticed the nail file in the inspector's right hand. Damn him, he'd seen her look and was now grinning wolfishly back at her. The little cogne was enjoying every minute of it.
"No need, M'sieur Inspector. I'll be fi…."
"Oh no, I insist Madame. It is my duty to oversee the welfare of my prisoners."
And with that, he installed himself in one of the chairs directly in front of her cell.
"You may have a beard like a man mother, but I have claws like a woman." He grinned. "I'll take care of those, ah, nightmares for you. Sleep tight."
Mme Thenardier stuffed the rags back in her ears and rolled over in a vain attempt to block out the louder than ever scrapings and gratings of the nail file. Claws like a woman indeed.
SCRRRAAAAAPE
… It was going to be a looong night.
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A/N: You know you want to press that little blue button.
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