Set sometime after the Season Two episode 'Keep Your Friends Close'.
"Where's D'Artagnan?" Porthos asked Aramis.
"Running an errand for me," Aramis replied.
"Glad ya told me. Was gonna give 'im hell for not bein' here for our wrestlin' session."
Aramis' sly smile betrayed a man up to no good. "He's at Rimbaud's shop. Inquiring on some perfume, for a lady friend of mine."
"Perfume?" Porthos asked.
"I stated that he specifically mentions that it was for me. I told the boy it would ensure he was given a favorable rate."
"And he didn't ask why you could not do this yourself?"
"He did, in fact, the cheeky boy. I reminded him that even though he was now a full-fledged Musketeer, that didn't mean he was above running errands for more senior comrades."
"Wait- the shop keeper- Rimbaud- his wife..."
Aramis' mischievous smirk made it all click for Porthos.
"So the key was mentioning it was for you, aye, Aramis? Did you leave out the part where Rimbaud caught you and his wife together?"
Aramis smiled and shrugged.
Porthos continued, proud of himself for connecting the dots. "Once he realized that the perfume you bought from his shop ended up in his own home, a gift given from you to his own wife, didn't he threaten to, well…"
"Detach a certain appendage of mine necessary for- several bodily functions, from my person?"
An answer to Aramis' question was interrupted by the Garrison gate flying open with a start.
"ARAMIS!"
D'Artagnan, empty-handed and looking a bit unkempt, marched towards Aramis. He was over six feet of rage.
Aramis held out his hands and had the audacity to ask, "So where is my perfume?"
D'Artagnan, not happy already, became decidedly less so. Not helping were Porthos' 'hee hees' just behind the man he was very angry with.
"I think you know what you could do with your perfume, you sod!"
"So… he was sold out?" Aramis asked.
"Once I mentioned your name, he spouted out about a thousand ways that he was going to end you. All the while advancing on me as if I was going to be his practice kill!"
"Don't worry, brother; we would 'a avenged your death," Porthos said.
"How comforting," D'Artagnan replied, his attention being drawn to the Garrison gate.
Athos was walking in with a stranger to them; the master swordsman's easy smile and body language displayed a benign familiarity towards the man, who seemed around Athos' age.
The amiable pair made their way towards Aramis, Porthos, and D'Artagnan.
A smiling Athos said, "Gentlemen, say hello to Claude Dubois. Claude," Athos said, pointing to his brothers, "Aramis, Porthos, and D'Artagnan."
As they greeted their guest, Athos continued. "Claude is a friend from way back in University."
Porthos' eyes bulged out. "You had a friend?"
Athos shot back, "My standards in that regard were much higher back then."
Claude smiled amiably, seemingly well attuned to Athos' dry humor. The other Inseparables took to him immediately.
After a few more moments of small talk, Athos made plans to catch up with Claude at day's end. Claude had offered that he was in town and his relocation from Lyon might become permanent, delighting his old friend. Porthos took the opportunity to grab D'Artagnan and remind him he was finally in store for an overdue brutal sparring session.
As Claude made his leave, he politely made a point of inviting Porthos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan along later that evening to join him and Athos.
Porthos said, "I may be otherwise engaged with a deck of cards and several unfortunates eager to part with their money. And I suspect D'Artagnan may need the evening to recover from what misery is about to befall him."
Before Aramis could open his mouth to offer up his availability status, D'Artagnan jumped in.
"And Aramis will be found floating face down in the Seine later, so please do start without him," the Gascon said, shooting the expert marksman daggers with his eyes, not in the slightest forgetting the misadventure his older brother had set upon him earlier.
Later at the Wren, Athos and Claude spent a pleasant evening catching up. The two had been inseparable almost immediately when they met at the University of Paris years earlier. Similar to Athos, Claude was a cousin once removed from a famous Comte, and therefore one of nobility, and also owning measurable amounts of land.
And as is usually the case with good friends, both men found that even though it had been years since they had seen each other- although missives between them in the interim had been relatively common- the company was good, the conversation flowed easily, and it seemed as if no time had passed between them. The fact that they had each other's' backs whenever the inevitable trouble that youths get into arose, ensured their bond was a permanent one.
Claude also revealed that he had recently suffered a stroke that left him partially debilitated. Athos had barely noticed a slowness of movement in his old friend, as well as an almost but not quite unnoticeable hesitancy of speech. Otherwise, Claude had reassured his friend that he was actually doing quite well, under the circumstances.
"I must say I was surprised to see almost every missive of yours originating from somewhere different- after Tours, there was Bayonne, Orleans, and now Lyon?" Athos asked.
"Yes, I have moved several times," Claude replied.
"Another manner in which we are similar- being a Comte in Pinon was never a life ambition of mine," Athos said.
"Neither was such a life for me either, my good friend," Claude said.
"Wife?"
"Twice. Both ended, sadly. I bear neither any ill will."
"What brought about your moving to those places?" Athos asked.
"Oh, this and that," Claude replied. "Luckily, being a solicitor means that I can ply my trade just about anywhere."
"And now anywhere might mean Paris?"
"I suppose so. I imagine I can tally up clients here better than anywhere else, and those richer of coin."
Athos said, "Well, as a former Comte, there may be occasions that may require a solicitor, so perhaps a retainer isn't outside of the realm of possibility in the future."
"That would be splendid."
"And given your chequered past, it might be advantageous for you to have a client not insisting on checking for references, aye, my good man?"
Instead of the expected smile, Claude visibly blanched and asked, "What have you heard?"
Athos simply replied, "That, my friend, was a joke."
Claude recovered quickly, then said "In any case, this has been a splendid evening, old man, but unfortunately my condition mandates that I rest often, as I tire easily. I must be going. I may be staying for some time, and would like to call on you again."
"I insist. Where are you currently residing?"
"The Roxy. But no worries- I know where to find you, of course."
"Of course," Athos repeated.
If Athos felt that the part of the evening reminiscing on old times went more smoothly and amiably than any of his inquiries into Claude's more recent activities, he gave it no mind. He had a great friend back.
