Oh dear. Oh dear dieu. Daniel knew that he wasn't the smartest or really even the kindest of men. He actually didn't think he was anything particularly special. And as he sat on the sofa trying to think why Grantaire - their ... dieu dammit, Daniel you can't even think of him as a friend, can you? And that was the problem. That was his Big Horrible Problem as he sat on the sofa and thought about sleep and coffee and how he'd already spilled some and about awkward boys out of place when they weren't in their theatre and fanmakers and how much he wanted to go back to bed.

Daniel L'aigle's Big Problem was that he was, deep down, really a Horrible Person. Because despite being worried - oh chou, really I am worried about your Scaramouche, of course I am, and it's just terrible and I'd gladly go and beat up anyone you need me to - despite that, he ... couldn't help sitting there on, as already stated, the sofa and wishing that the little pierrot had not come to them. After all, surely Grantaire had other not-quite-friends-but-we-owe-him-so-we'll-help people... other people who didn't need to sleep and protect their Joli's from the Bull-like spies of the world. Other people who weren't currently wishing their world could return to a state where they could lie in their beds and sleep and not be up at horrible hours of the morning feeling cold and wondering... what is that stain on the sofa and how can I clean it before Maurice sees it?

The whole situation made his head spin. Why would Grantaire - Grantaire, the cocky, sodden master of so much wit that it doesn't seem to come out quite right and keeps getting stuck in his wineglass... the unshaven fellow who gladly throws a punch even though he always seems to miss, and argues with Enjolras... I mean, dieu. A cynic, oui? He's a cynic, they're not meant to care about things like this and go about getting angry with people and getting arrested. Dieu dammit, when this was all over and god-willing they were still alive and he would have a few more completely metaphorical grey hairs and things On His List... he was going to have to talk to Grantaire about what it meant to be a cynic and all that in entailed. Apparently, Grantaire needed lessons.

The knock heralding what was hopefully Feuilly came as a welcome relief from his thoughts, and he hurried to get it, tripping over the table on the way. He'd once kept count of the number of times he'd tripped over that table, but had decided to stop when his count reached 57 and the table had earned a large chip from the corner.

Feuilly didn't bother waiting to be invited in, simply stepping to one side and around Daniel as he rubbed at his shin and eying them both with a mixture of curiosity, impatience and worry. "What's going on?"

"Trouble." Daniel replied, returning to the sofa and sitting back down. "I'm getting used to it." Dieu, next thing you know Enjolras will be asking us to let him use our appartment for the headquarters of the next Revolution. Oh, oui - Enjolras, no problem. Take a place in the line after the anarchist and between the two men coming to see us about illegal boxing rings...

Maurice helpfully passed Feuilly a cup of coffee. "Grantaire's been arrested."

"Damn." Feuilly accepted it, eyebrows shooting up into the hairline he actually had, which was nice for some. Other people didn't have hairlines and just looked like a pixie had ploughed across their forehead several times - and he thought perhaps he needed some coffee, unlike his Joli who had already had too much.

"Probably by Pilon." He gave a quick shake of his head, trying to clear the tangles of thoughts into something more helpful. Focus on the important things, L'aigle. Important like Grantaire and him being hurt and losing all his friends and so on. Important, unlike your lack of hair which - really, cher, shouldn't you be over that by now? "Sounds like it got rough."

Feuilly wasted no time, something he admired about the man. "I presume I'm here because you're intending to do something about it?" Joli gave him a little, firm nod and Feuilly took the coffee cup from him. "Whatever it is, I'm in."

Thank the bon dieu we don't have to do this alone. Daniel hunched his shoulders a little, and glanced at Maurice. For what, cher? For guidance, of course. You have your cher Scaramouche, I have you. "What is it, Joli?"

"We're going to have to get him out." Maurice finished more coffee with an eerie sort of calm, and Daniel felt himself shiver.

"...all... right. How?"

"I'm not sure. Something different than last time, obviously."

"You know they'll be expecting something." He knew that there was this side to his Joli, of course. He'd seen him Handle Things before, really he's awfully smart. People didn't always see it because well - his Joli was clever about things like illnesses and other people were bloody idiots - to be frank and not wanting to offend anyone and all... Somehow even Daniel hadn't quite expected his Joli's powers to extend to breaking someone out of prison.

"Will they?" Feuilly seemed to be taking Maurice seriously, something for which Daniel felt both grateful and pleased. The small fanmaker looked thoughtful, as though he were giving proper weight to Joli's suggestions. "They seem to have mostly forgotten about you... "

Wait... what? Daniel wasn't sure whether he'd missed something due to still being half asleep - and if finding out a firend-like-person-you-don't-actually-like-that-much-and-are-afraid-it's-because-your-jealous-of-them is in prison isn't enough to wake one up, then what was? - but there seemed to be a weight to the 'you' Feuilly had just directed at his Joli - who was staring. In fact Daniel was also staring, which was rude, but really... No one was suppose to know who Harlequin was, were they?

"Oh. I...talked to Grantaire about that already." Feuilly said, rather off-handedly as if he couldn't really see why how he knew what he knew mattered. "It wasn't too hard to figure out after he came around looking for the real culprit."

"Oh. Oh, alright." Joli said slowly.

Yes. Alright. "...right." And Feuilly was right, wasn't he? No one seemed to even recall that Harlequin had even been there, and he'd been the one to stay that whole hellish week with them at the school... "...they do seem to have forgotten you exist, cher."

Maurice didn't appear to be too concerned by this. "That's true. I wonder why?"

"I don't think anybody really saw you during the break," Feuilly was once again taking Maurice Seriously, and Daniel began to think he could grow to Rather Like Him. "and then you never did show up again."

"Grantaire's personality was certainly enough to distract from anything else, too." Wasn't Grantaire's personality always enough to distract from... and shouldn't he really stop thinking like this at least until the man was out of prison?

Maurice snapped his fingers briskly and poured himself - cher... no, not more coffee... "Yes. True."

"...so..." Daniel eyed the pot, which was nearly empty, and Feuilly - who was looking at his Joli as if he'd sprouted wings and started proclaiming Charles X as God and Master. "if they don't remember you then they certainly don't remember me." Should he make more coffee?

"Especially if you have a wig on." Joli said, rather apologetically.

He grinned back, rubbing his head. "...yeah... that helps."

Feuilly was - oddly enough, continuing to act as though they were all making perfect sense and not planning to spring a man from a heavily guarded prison. Dieu. Were they all mad, then? Did knowing Grantaire as Scaramouche do this to a person? Were Dominic and Lucien next? "We're probably not going to get it with one man, though. I'm sure he'll be heavily guarded."

"What do you think they'll do with him? I mean - if we don't get him out?" As he said the words, something dropped at the bottom of his stomach and perhaps things got a little more serious.

"I don't know." Joli said in a cold, stern sort of voice that made his stomach drop a bit more and suddenly he was imagining a List - except not for his Joli but for a rather homely drunken man called Grantaire. "Probably won't be good for him."

"Can't imagine it will." Daniel said, and with that he made a place in his heart for the Man Named Grantaire and all his troubles and masks and annoyances and Faces Called Scaramouche and even the bit of him that Joli looked up to. All right, mon ami... friends. "...we need a plan, Joli."

Maurice seemed to be missing his coffee already. "I'm working on one. There's a diagram of the prison but it's at his place."

"He's got a diagram of a prison?" Who had diagrams of prisons lying about their appartments?

"Don't ask me why."

Anotehr look at the empty coffee pot, and Daniel sighed, gave in, and hopped around the table on his way out to the kitchen. Plans of prisons, masks lying about the place - Dieu... one would almost suspect Grantaire of being a governmental spy if it weren't so ridiculous... besides, he berated himself sternly - government spies do not break people out of prison. That would defeat the purpose. He returned to the living room in time to hear Feuilly asking something.

" ...do you think he remembered to lock his door?"

"He didn't." he placed the coffee on the table and shot Maurice a worried Please Don't Drink Much More Cher look. "I was still on my way out when he left. Just pulled the door to."

Maurice was quite possibly ignoring his significant looks. Possibly. "All right. I think I remember where it is...they're probably not watching his place."

And that was true. Of course. It was his Joli, after all. "Probably don't know where he lives unless he told them." Another thought struck him, hard like a punch to the gut. "...do you think Pilon asked him about us? He probably remembers Grantaire having a few with him." Oh dieu, oh dear dieu... oh dieu this was not good. This was bad. Horrible. Terrible bad. What if the soldiers were already on their way here? Feuilly shot him an odd look, and Maurice sighed.

"Augh...we were there when he caught Pilon...but do you think he remembers us? We were pretty far back."

"Pretty sure we're why he didn't attack GrandR straight off..." Grantaire... friends or no... please. Don't tell him about my Joli. I'll do anything you like after this, I'll buy you every bottle of wine you want, you can flirt with my girls... anything. Just don't tell him.

"I don't know...we'll think of something when I get back." And with that, Joli got up and put on only one jacket and barely any wraps - and hurried outside into the night. Daniel listened for a long time, just in case... but try as he might he couldn't hear anything like an official footstep outside. Maybe - and really he did hope so - maybe they were safe.