Small things I write at work, a panel in three snippets: 

“Have you really sent a note for me when you were just two streets away from law school?” Bossuet asked quite rhetorically to Grantaire who was laying on a bench under the sun. 

“Surely you mean to applaud me,” answered Grantaire, “since I’ve made one gamin richer and less idle thanks to that. Now, come on, we have a big day in front of us.“ 

“I have classes,” Bossuet remarked. 

Grantaire blinked, and waggled his eyebrows. “I have money and a new address,” he said, and Bossuet grinned.

“Bossuet,” said Grantaire, “the gentleman is still standing.“ 

Bossuet grinned widely at Joly. “I do believe he is,” he replied.

“Well this is it then; the war is won; the king has fallen, and by that I mean that my head will be on the floor tomorrow. L’aigle de Mots, I will never doubt your words ever again. You said ’this man is a trusty fellow, R’ and i scoffed. Now here I am, defeated, corrected, in awe. Monsieur Joly, you have my approval.” Grantaire said. 

Joly beamed. “Another drink?” he asked.

Bossuet was languid in the bed, laying sensually on the side, the white sheets covering so little that Musichetta didn’t have anything left to imagine, apart what it would be like, to run her fingers on this fine, lean body. And even that…

 "My dear,“ said Joly behind her, his breath tickling her neck, his hands on her hips. "What do you say?" 

Musichetta said exactly nothing, but reached for the buttons of her dress. There goes my reputation, she thought. She couldn’t remember to mind for now.