One.

Sergeant Lucien Lafontaine was handsome. This was quite evident to everyone in the town of Montreuil-sur-Mer, except for M. Dupont, who, bless his soul, was not exactly young anymore and didn't have the eyes he once did. But even he remembered when Lucien was a babe – the round, devilishly innocent green eyes, the tuft of sandy-brown hair. Add to that one scathingly angelic smirk and two rows of even, white teeth and you would have the most sought after young man in the town.

Unfortunately, he was the dumbest, too.

It was until the ripe age of thirty-two, after he had gambled and drank away all of his parents' money, that he realized he was actually expected to work to regain the family fortune. "How perfectly ridiculous!" he would say with a scoff to anyone who would listen (any female between the ages of fourteen and eighty-two.) "How absolutely trite and unnecessary!"

Fortunately he realized it was necessary before he starved to death.

Luckily for him, however, even though good looks may not give you one bit of common sense, they will get you a job as a sergeant in the Montreuil-sur-Mer police force. Sure, the work was dull, the hours were long, and the pay was low – but Lucien, having never worked another job nor known anyone who worked another job, did not know better.

And so it was that Lucien found himself sitting on the steps of the Town Hall awaiting one Inspector Javert, with orders to escort him immediately back to the station.

Trite and unnecessary. If the man was smart enough to be the new Chief Inspector then he was smart enough to find his way to the station, if you asked him. But then again, no one ever did.

He was just beginning to ponder this fact when he noticed a pair of boots on the steps in front of him. Of course, wearing these boots was a person, but the thought hadn't even had time to register in Lucien's mind before a voice seeming very far above his head barked something.

"I said, are you Monsieur Barraud?" the voice came again, speaking not really to Lucien, but at him.

"No," he remarked dumbly, not taking his eyes off of the stranger's boots. They were dusty, dusty and scuffed up. He rearranged himself slightly so the man could not miss his boots. They were brand-new – he had lived on stale bread for a week and had flirted shamelessly to obtain them. A smiled crossed his face as he watched the fine polished leather glint in the sunlight. Oh yes, they were a fine pair of boots indeed, almost as fine as that Delphine girl he had met in the park yesterday, yes, she was quite a piece of -

"Boy, are you deaf?"

Ever-so-slowly, those green, green, green eyes were agonizingly raised. "Pardon me?"

"Oh, so now you hear me." Though the man's face was in shadow, Lucien could see his eyes glint.

"Yes. I can." My eyes can glint just as well, sir.

"Good. Can you tell me where I can find Monsieur Barraud?"

"He'd be at the police station, sir."

"Well. Can you tell me where to find that, then?"

He could have told him, of course, but that would have been too easy, and there was something in the stranger's voice Lucien didn't like – a severity that had never been used in his presence before. Obviously the man didn't know who he was messing with.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say," Lucien said calmly.

"Oh really."

"You see, I'm a sergeant, monsieur," he went on, a sickly sweet smile fanning over his face. "And we really don't want strangers cavorting around our offices. It could be dangerous, you understand? Now if you'll please excuse me-"

"You're a sergeant, you said?" the man muttered with curiosity. "What's your name?"

Lucien felt himself bristle with pride. "Sergeant Lucien Lafontaine, sir. Have you heard of me? I've assisted in some very important cases around town-"

"I've never heard of you," the stranger said impatiently. "But perhaps you've heard of me. My name is Inspector Javert, I've been traveling here from Paris for four days, I officially start my duties as Chief Inspector of this provincial hell-hole on Monday, and if you could please escort me to the police station and Monsieur Barraud, I would be most grateful and significantly less likely to make my first order of business dismissing you. Do I make myself clear?"

"You're Inspector Javert?" Lucien breathed. His smile faltered. The air had suddenly become very thick.

"I am," he replied, his eyes glinting again.

It was then that Lucien realized that things were going be to be a lot different from now on.