A/N Thank you so much for being patient, a translation of Eugene's speech is at the bottom of the page. ^_^ Love to you all, and hopefully the next update will be on time.

Passing the time was a chore in this place, seeing as M. I-Have-No-Brains,-I'm-Only-A-Weasel-In-Trousers wouldn't let him have paper or books, so Eugene was currently seeing how long a stretch of insults he could put together for his friendly and cheerful companion. A bastard; a weasel; an illiterate buffoon; a cowardly, cruel, uneducated, mercenary, government swine, macrocephalous, filthy, intellectually stunted criminal; a somnambulistic, pathological moron, a beribono, gangrenous, trichina infested batteur; with a nasum rhinocerotis; a complete tromperie, inimica fidei, hostis pudigitiae, who is completely and utterly in the shape of a branque, a zymotic raboin, belier, and homo et humanitatis expers et vitae communis ignarus...

And a man who simply could not whistle in key, case in point - ear-splitting and probably damaging noise coming down the hallway. Corridor. Whatever the technical name is for a passage in a place like this particular place. It could not, of course, be anything remotely good that was making M. Duval-Weasel so exceptionally happy.

This pessimistic prediction on his part was borne out when Duval came into the chamber outside Eugene's cell with a figure in... Augustin. Eugene felt his heart drop. "Dear god." Augustin Enjolras, lip bleeding and a look of contained fury on his face, shackled like a common criminal and being manhandled by...

He had to close his eyes for a moment.

"Good afternoon, M. Combeferre." ...don't you dare sound so damned smug. "I've brought you company, as you can see."

It was that calculated rubbing it in that made him open his eyes, tilt his head back and survey them both coolly. "Indeed. I assume his arrest was just as illegal as mine."

The large government agent laughed a little, scoffed, rather and shrugged. "Details."

Everything is in the details, you moron. The world is made up of small tiny details - every one of them important and irreduceable. If you base your world on the large solide things and ignore the details, then you will get caught in the details like a nesting spider might catch lunch in her web (before, incidentally, devouring her mate. Just as a side note on how even a spider intent on cannibalism is not as vicious and underhanded as you).

Augustin speared Duval with a glare. "Important details, which may yet lead to your downfall. No one can stand for this."

Duval just laughed softly and opened the cell door, flinging Augustin inside with such force that Eugene nearly found himself knocked over by him. "No one will ever find out." Hello ominous cliche, we were wondering where you'd gotten to. "And if you two will excuse me, I've got some important things to take care of."

Bravo. Followed so neatly by Vague And Possibly Ominous But Then Depending On The Play We're In I Could Be Inuendo Statement. One could almost say you were a professional, m'sieur.

Eugene steadied Augustin as best he could lending arm and shoulder for support while he regained his footing. "Good evening, Augustin. I can't say I approve of your choice of company. He has no manners." I win the prize for the biggest understatement in Paris since someone said 'you know, maybe this guillotine thing might get a bit messy'.

Duval left instead of continuating their scintilating exchange and Augustin sighed a little and relaxed ever so very fractionally. "He certainly doesn't, Eugene, and I assure you it wasn't intentional on my part." There was a slight awkward moment when they didn't quite look each other in the eye, and then Augustin twisted slightly and made a displeased face. "Would you kindly take care of the blood dripping onto my collar, since you've got your hands free?"

Merde! Dammit, Augustin - must you get yourself hurt when I am not around? He tugged at his own cravat hastily, hissing as he turned Augustin's jaw and dabbed at the cut. Damn you, Duval. Damn you to hell. "I trust you are not worse hurt, my friend?" No hidden injuries? No broken ribs?

"No," Augustin pulled back and sat down on the bench. "And with any luck no one else will be. Prouvaire was with me, but the dog let him get away to warn Scaramouche."

Another man I would rather keep as far away from this cell as I possibly can. Oh Augustin, Augustin - do you have any idea what Grantaire will do? Something ridiculously heroic with no thought for his own quixotic skin - something at once brilliant and incredibly stupid such as only our own Perceval can do. God willing Jehan won't be able to point him towards us. Even if we have to wait this out to its legal end, Duval wants him far too badly for it to end well should they come to face each other here. "Scaramouche is involved?" He sat next to Augustin and sighed, raising both eyebrows as punctuation. "I admit I had hoped not to see you in this position, Augustin."

"I had rather hoped not to be in it," Augustin said with typical literalness. "Yes... Scaramouche is involved. We're being used as leverage - or rather, I suspect, bait."

Oh. Oh merde, Weasel. You do have a brain. You know Scaramouche came for us before, and what better way to get him out of hiding than to present him with the same trigger, the same bait, the same prize as what produced the magical masked demon out of the magician's hat last time? No wonder you went after Enjolras first. "Oh. Dear dieur. So this is a trap."

"..I believe it is."

"Well. We can't have that." God knows how we can stop that. Eugene looked around the bare little room and swallowed hard. It felt different now, knowing that out there in the lively bustling city, Grantaire was coming, bringing Joly and Lesgle and Feuilly with him, either physically or as certainly if he got captured as if he had brought them physically. "At least he is warned, that's a good start. Unfortunately, he's also unlikely to stop his attempts to free us." Unlikely - completely unlikely - about as likely as the king abdicating in favour of a republic tomorrow. In his underwear. While eating custard.

Augustin broke in on that particularly bewildering mental image. "He is a very brave man."

"Yes he is." Eugene reached out and pressed his shoulder briefly. If you only knew what you were saying, my friend.

"And in the meantime - I suppose we wait."

"And hope."

Augustin nodded solemnly. "And hope."

Hope, hope, hope Grantaire doesn't come, my friend. Hope it with all the fire and passion in your body. Hope it as much as you've ever hoped anything. Because he will if he can, and this time Duval has all the cards.

Translation: A bastard; a weasel; an illiterate buffoon; a cowardly, cruel, uneducated, mercenary, government swine, macrocephalous (medical term for a large head), filthy, intellectually stunted criminal; a somnambulistic (walking and carrying out activities while asleep), pathological (morbid, abnormal) moron, a beribono (argot for 'fool/idiot'), gangrenous, trichina (parasitic worm) infested batteur ( argot – liar); with a nasum rhinocerotis (nose of a rhinoceros); a complete tromperie ( argot - fraud), inimica fidei, hostis pudigitiae (Nemesis of nice behaviour, enemy of etiquette - Apuleius), who is completely and utterly in the shape of a branque (argot - donkey), a zymotic (term including all diseases which arise from germs) raboin (argot - devil), belier (argot - cuckold), and homo et humanitatis expers et vitae communis ignarus (a man completely destitute of all human kindness, and utterly ignorant of all social observance – Cicero)