I do not own, and never will own, Les Miserables.
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As he exited the Prefecture, sergeant Reginald Prideux heaved a deep breath of the crisp air. He liked cold weather, but not for the cold. No, he liked it for the lack of insects. Bugs meant he was usually put on fly patrol, a duty that he despised. He hadn't seen the merest hint of a bug for weeks, and that was just the way he liked it.
As Prideux trotted down the steps outside the Prefecture and along the street (dodging random pedestrians and generally keeping to himself) he caught a glimpse of Javert's dark grey coat and top hat a couple hundred yards ahead. Despite his supposed near-death experience, Prideux closed the distance between himself and the Inspector until about thirty feet separated them.
Tailing Javert proved to be quite boring, as all he did was walk around and follow his normal patrolling beat. Prideux proved tenacious for the better part of an hour; when nothing out of the ordinary happened he took to stopping for a few minutes to see how long he could keep Javert in sight, and whether he could find him again after the latter disappeared. But even that little game began to pall after a while.
Prideux slumped against the brick wall of a building with a heavy sigh; Javert continued to pace normally on his way. Prideux rolled his eyes, hoping that the man would do something, ANYTHING other than just walk. Do something out of the ordinary, man!
Javert continued to go on his way. Prideux stared at the thick cloud cover in the sky and wondered absentmindedly if it would snow. He liked snow. It was fun to be the first one on the street after a good snow so he could get a good running start and slide on the walkway before the Prefecture and try to keep his balance. Now that was something he couldn't see Javert doing, no sir. Prideux snickered to himself at the mental image and glanced down the street. Javert had vanished.
Prideux heaved himself up and stood on tiptoe to look down the street; no sign of the Inspector. He stretched and shoved his hands into his pockets before continuing down the street--chances were Javert was just a little ways ahead and it would only be a moment to catch up with him.
Fifteen minutes later, Prideux still hadn't come across Javert. Even backtracking and going down a few streets didn't bring up anything. All the exertion made him red-faced and more than a little hot swathed in his long wool coat; combined with the irritation at not finding his quarry made him a little on the snappish side. Finally he gave up and headed back towards the Prefecture. Careless glances into the alleyways proved to be a good idea, however, because after one such glance Prideux did a double take as he recognized Javert some distance down it.
Prideux hid himself behind a building corner and peered around it. What he saw made him astonished, cautious, and insanely curious: Javert was in the alley, all right, but he was twisting what seemed to be horse ears sticking out the sides of his head. As he listened Prideux caught soft words of muttered swearing on the part of Javert. So that explained why the Inspector had been more irritable than his usual wont…Prideux was overcome with an overpowering curiosity, but the aforementioned cautiousness whispered that it would be best to observe and not speak for the time being. So he watched as Javert abandoned the twisting with a hiss of pain and massaged the ears carefully. After a moment he placed the top hat upon his head once again, carefully pushing the ears under the edges and pulling the hat down until none of the black hair showed.
Prideux flattened himself against the corner, then jumped as Javert started to turn. In a surprising show of speed Prideux managed to fling himself down half a block and into a storefront doorway before Javert exited the alley. To his relief Javert continued down the opposite direction, and Prideux heaved a sigh of relief. At that moment he was nearly run over as a gaggle of various people exiting the store; his clumsy endeavor to keep from underfoot resulted in his being yelled at by an irritated bourgeois.
"Sorry," Prideux muttered and scurried away as fast as he could without appearing suspicious. He buried his chin into his coat collar and reflected. So, Javert had something crazy happen to him at last--fortunately it didn't involve coffee. Aside from that minor point, Prideux now had something to keep himself occupied in off-hours; spying on the Inspector would be an interesting undertaking. He needed the practice anyway.
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Damn Prideux and his nosiness! Damn his smirking red face! And damn his idiotic, bumbling 'spying'!
Javert fumed as he slammed the door to his tenement, applying each phrase like an acidic balm that ate away at his limited supply of goodwill. He had seen Prideux skulking around, unwilling to come out after the little coffee incident earlier in the morning but obviously attempting to spy. And he acted like he knew something, the little twerp.
Javert condescended to mutter a greeting at the landlady, but before he could vanish upstairs Madame Gillette poked her head around the corner.
"You haven't paid your rent for this quarter, Monsieur," she began with a wheeze (she seemed to have a permanent lung disorder of sorts).
"Madame, I handed you the money myself two days ago, at the beginning of the month. It's not my responsibility if you 'lost' it." He aimed himself towards the stairs.
"I don't recall that," Mme. Gillette hedged.
"I do." A hair to the right, finger on the trigger…
"And how many times have I told you to take your hat off inside? We must keep up a sense of propriety--" Mme. Gillette reached out to pluck the hat from Javert's head.
"Apologies madame pardonne moi!" He pulled the 'trigger' and shot up the stairs, out of reach of the woman's grasping fingers. She was too old and fat to even think about keeping up, and settled with yelling at his back, "I won't forget! That hat's coming off the moment you enter this house, understand?"
Javert ignored her squawking and slipped into his room, locking the door and easing his hat off with a groan of pain. The ears popped back out with a hateful perkiness. Despite their apparent flexibility they still ached from being stuffed under a hat for hours. Perhaps it would help to wear a different hat--something shapeless that came farther down his neck. But then he'd have to explain the sudden change in attire.
Or not, seeing as a well-placed glare tended to dry up inquiries like a drop of water on a hot iron. Inquiries didn't have a satisfying sizzling sound as they dried up, but it didn't really matter at this point. All he needed now was a good snarling rebuttal and no one would bother him.
He took his heavy greatcoat off and moved towards the single window the room provided; a glance outside put a scowl on his face. Prideux. The little nincompoop was trying to act nonchalant and doing a horrendous job of it, earning suspicious glances from everyone for half a block. Well, if the ninny wanted to make fool of himself, Javert would have no part of it. The sight of the man galled him to no end.
A grumbling arose from Javert's stomach; odd how he seemed to be growing hungrier. Usually he didn't eat for another hour or so. Considering that he had eaten at least four times over the course of the day he shouldn't have felt hungry at all. His stomach disagreed vehemently. After a moment's hesitation he crammed the thrice-accursed ears under his hat, pulled on the coat, and reluctantly made his way downstairs.
Although he made a good attempt to be quiet, Mme. Gillette had ears like a watchdog: if there was a profit to be made, monetary or otherwise, she could hear it.
"Monsieur…" Argh, the whining voice! She only used that when she wanted something done! Javert left behind all decent efforts for silence and blasted down the last four steps, disappearing out the door before Mme. Gillette could hobble out of the 'office' (actually just a former storage room).
"Monsieur!" Javert sped up, leaping over the front steps and making good timing down the block. Mme. Gillette made it to the front step and yelled something at his retreating back; fortunately there was a stiff breeze and the word were tossed back in the woman's face.
Once he couldn't see Mme. Gillette anymore, Javert slowed to a walk. The frantic sprint down the block must have looked rather ridiculous, but Javert knew what would happen if he didn't escape from her clutches: the woman would try to make him a go-fer for the next hour or so, claiming that she was too weak to run her own errands and add a 'poor me' touch, lamenting that she didn't have a soul left in the world…argh! It was aggravating beyond belief.
At that moment Javert noticed that his appearance was rather disheveled: the top buttons to his coat were undone. He hated it when the landlady could send him sprinting down the street only to realize that he had forgotten some part of his toilette. The escape from Mme. Gillette proved to be only a temporary respite; as Javert did the top button of his coat he saw Prideux again, plopping down on a bench a hundred feet away. The man was making such an obvious attempt not to be seen that it was laughable, if Javert didn't find it so annoying.
Oh, to hell with him. Javert was hungry. He tucked his chin into the collar of his coat, stuffed his hands into the coat pockets, and strode down the street, blocking Prideux's aggravating presence from his mind.
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Thanks to AchillesMaiden and EnjyGlomper for reviewing! To AM: Prideux is probably one of the most fun characters I've written--and I just might write a bit about him after this story. XD