A woman in red stood in the doorway to Corinthe, surveying the men surrounding her with one perfect, coppery brow raised. Her tresses fell past her shoulders, tousled and graceful; moving in the slight breeze from the Parisian street. The members of Les Amis de l'ABC, for once, were collectively silent as they locked eyes on the figure, whowhich was clothed in a red corset and deep red skirts. Even Grantaire roused from his absinthe-induced slumber to stare blearily at her.
War merely smirked and stepped into the room, grinning. "Hello, boys," she murmured, her voice a throaty purr. The young men surrounding her continued to stare, rather bewildered.
"Buy a lady a drink?" War inquired, striding purposefully over to the bar and taking a seat. The eldest of Les Amis, Bahorel, grinned and walked to the bar, sitting beside the woman in red.
"Mam'selle Rouge," he grinned and ordered a drink from the woman behind the bar. War turned to look at him, tawny eyes gleaming. Bahorel nodded, seemingly acquainted with her from times past.
"Bahorel," she replied, grinning slightly and ignoring the students, who were watching the exchange avidly. Not a sound was heard in the café, except the murmur of the two voices.
"Is it time, then?" the young man in the red waistcoat queried, an excited grin on his face despite his best efforts.
"Time?" War shot back innocently, laughing. "Mon ami, you've got all the time in the world." She took a sip of her drink, throwing a wink to Enjolras, who was just as stunned as the rest of Les Amis.
"Come now, ma chere Rouge," Bahorel pleaded, pressing a fond kiss to her hand. "Do tell me, so we might prepare." He gestured to the room. "My friends are eager to fight for their freedom." War merely laughed again and pulled her hand out of Bahorel's grasp, shaking her head.
"Think I'll leave you in suspense," she grinned, taking another long swallow of whiskey and trailing her fingers up Bahorel's arm. She watched as he finished his drink, then took his hand and walked to the door, with the students still dumbstruck. War smiled, her teeth shining like bullets as she pulled Bahorel closer, then nearly dragged him outside.
Once outside the café, she pressed him against the wall, trailing a well-manicured nail along his cheek. Bahorel grinned and leaned in to kiss her cheek, but War pulled back, laughing, as Gavroche dashed by.
"Tell me." Bahorel insisted, pulling her back. War smirked at him, then pulled him into a rough kiss, still smirking. She glanced after Gavroche, motioning towards him.
"Ask the young fellow," she replied, then pulled Bahorel back into Corinthe. Once there, she pulled out a musket and pressed it into Enjolras' hands.
"Here you are, Blondie," she purred, then patted his cheek. As she walked out of the room, she could hear Gavroche shouting for attention. The date? June 4, 1832.