The Corinth Wine-Shop
A normal looking wine-shop, with tables and chairs scattered about over the corner of the room farthest from the door. Along the wall to your left as you enter is a large counter/bar, behind which sits the manager and barkeeper. On the other side of the counter, out from the corner a little bit, is a spiral staircase leading up and down.

Grantaire is slung in his usual chair with the usual air of slightly woozy boredom.
Enjolras strides into the wineshop and clears the bottles from the table in front of Grantaire with a sweeping motion. "Comrades," he says to the men who follow him in, most of whom are armed, "this is a fitting place to begin our new society."
Grantaire protests mildly, "Here now."
Enjolras glares at Grantaire. "You should leave. This is no place for the likes of you."
Joly tries very hard to arm his gun without getting powder up his nose. Doesn't that stuff cause cancer?
Grantaire turns innocent, if clouded, brown eyes on Enjolras. "I thought it was a free country you were after."
Mocky follows the King of the Gamins about quietly, smiling as she watches him.
Enjolras warns Grantaire, "Our Republic is unlikely to have an easy birth. If you want to stay, then stay, but do not get in our way."
Grantaire says patiently, "I'm not in anybody's way. Am I?" --appealing to Joly.
Gavroche sings a tune of his own improvising and waves his hammerless musket.
Joly frowns some at the harsh words, giving R a sympathetic look. "Do."
"Thank you." Grantaire smiles angelically up at Enjolras. "There, you see?"
Joly gives an equally innocent look to Enjolras.
Enjolras shakes his head. "I will not take responsibility for you."
Grantaire leans back in his chair with a philosophical sigh. "Naturally not."
Enjolras turns to the other men, who now crowd the doorway. "To the street!" he shouts. "We must begin."
Yells of approval.
Mocky watches her idol, accepted as a fellow-fighter among the young men, and at once is at the edge of the vest, tugging for attention, "What shall I do, Monsieur?"
Gavroche, who was concentrating on Enjolras, looks at Mocky confused. "Why, what we're all doing, of course. Whatever he says."
Grantaire's gaze flickers to the child, and softens, amused.
Mocky nods briefly, and, then going over to the edge of a second, more COLORFUL vest, tug-tugs, and questions again, "What shall I do?"
Enjolras looks down at the scrawny child and registers that it is, in fact, a girl. "Go home to your mother, ma petite. This is no place for you."
Grantaire's eyebrows go up. He'd be surprised if 'petite' /has/ a mother. But he's not saying a word, oh no, not him.
Mocky puts on her most indignant pout, "I want to stay with Monsieur!"
Gavroche hurries over to shepherd Mocky away from Enjolras. "I'll keep an eye on her, I will." He tugs on Mocky's hand, trying to get her away.
Grantaire murmurs, "That's a boy. Chivalry."
Mocky goes off with Gavroche. Like /she/'s going to refuse to go somewhere with /him/.
Enjolras says, "An eye is not enough. How would you feel if this poor girl died because she was with you?"
Gavroche shrugs at Enjolras. "She's here 'cause she wants ta be, just like you and me."
Mocky repeats in a daze, looking at Gavroche, "Just like Monsieur."
Courfeyrac watches the gamin pair go out the door. "At least one of us has a girl nearby, eh?"
As if on cue, there's a disturbance at the door, and a distinctly feminine voice yells, "/Idiots!/"
Joly grins at Courfeyrac delightedly.
Grantaire glances to the ceiling. Prayerfully.
Courfeyrac turns bright red and seeks a hiding place. He quickly pulls up a chair and plunks himself down next to Grantaire, pretending to be involved in...something.
Enjolras strides over to the doorway. "Can we help you, madame?"
Manon storms past the knot of young men at the door. "/Idiots/," she says again, and rounding on Enjolras, "/Why now/?!"
Grantaire casts an amused glance at his new neighbor. "Now you're in for it," under his breath.
Joly watches Manon, fiddling with his carbine, and looks over at Courfeyrac, chuckling to himself sickly.
Enjolras gazes at her peacefully, as if she had asked him when Christmas was. "Because of General Lamarque's funeral, madame."
Courfeyrac gazes intently at the table. He mutters, "Do shut up, winecask."
Manon folds her arms fiercely. "Oh, that's just brilliant. Brilliant. My God, you're all addicted to drama, that's your trouble--" And then, catching a familiar voice, she swoops down upon the table. "/God preserve me/, you fool!"
Joly leaps out of the way of the swoop, deftly moving from between Courfeyrac and Manon.
Grantaire leans back by way of self-preservation, abandoning Courfeyrac to his fate.
Courfeyrac curses quietly and puts his head down on the table.
Joly hms, his gun finally, with some work, prepared. "Wered't we..." he bubbles, erm, mumbles to himself. he thought they were about to head out. He looks panicked for a moment, thinking he's been hallucinating again.
Courfeyrac bangs his head on the table several times, then looks up at Manon. "Yes, darling?"
Manon rails at him by way of hello-sweetheart-and-how-are-you, "I thought you had some sense!"
Enjolras takes advantage of Manon's distraction to finish his exit. "To the street!" he shouts.
Joly opens his eyes wide. What if... what if this entire day has been a hallucination? A feverish dream? What if he's really lying in some hospital bed, unable to regain consciousness?
Enjolras leaves Corinth with the men who are not observing the lovers' tiff.
Courfeyrac says, "Whyever did you think that, my dove? I thought we'd met before." He asks the room at large, "Do I have any sense?"
Grantaire contemplates. To go and be yelled at, to stay and endanger his life. Decisions, decisions.
Gavroche answers, "Not that I ever saw!" before guiding Mocky out the door on the heels of the crowd.
Joly lowers himself into a chair slowly, now unaware of the leaving of the others. His face is entirely pallid, he's breathing quickly and heavily, in almost a state of panic over his predicament.
Manon throws up her hands. "God, why do I bother? --Do I need to go into all the reasons /why/ you're an idiot?"
Mocky scampers out after Gavroche, smiling.
Courfeyrac says, "No, I think you detailed them well enough the last time we met. When was that, anyhow? Last week? Last year?"
Grantaire peers behind Courfeyrac at Joly. "What's the matter now?"
Manon retorts furiously, "And whose fault is /that/, may I ask? Who's too busy with his damn' political meetings to drop in now and then?"
Joly blinks once, twice, trying to awaken himself. What if he's in a coma? Oh, God!!! He vaguely, though his ponderings, realizes he's been addressed. Well, not really... but... "U-u-uhh." is all he can manage to articulate at Grantaire.
Courfeyrac slumps a bit. "'m sorry." Then he brightens. "But see what we're about to do! I wasn't wasting my time, was I, not this time. We're actually going to accomplish something!"
Grantaire sits up straight (for once), his duty clear. He clambers out of his chair and heads over to the dithering Joly.
"/Ha!/" is Manon's supportive rejoinder. "That's right, you're going to go and get yourself killed, now that's an accomplishment."
Joly trembles visibly at the realism of this apparition. "C-c-cabidal R?"
Courfeyrac says, "At least it's for a good cause, which is more than I can say about most dead people."
Grantaire spreads his hands. "Who else?" And reaches out to drag his friend roughly to his feet. "Pull yourself together, snuffler."
Courfeyrac stands up. "If you wish to speak to me, you will know where to find me," he declares, and starts for the door.
Manon snaps shrewishly, "Lying in a gutter."
Joly starts visibly at the dream's touch. He stands up, "Whad... whad... Oh, God. I'b dot here." He feels R's shoulder, "R? R? Are you there?" His voice betrays that he is not trying to talk to THIS R, but an R in some other dimension.
Courfeyrac says, "Thank you for your vote of confidence." He goes out into the street, where the paving stones are being lifted and stacked.
Grantaire gives Joly a rough shake. "Rather to my chagrin, yes. Calm down, will you?"
Manon clenches her teeth, staring determinedly at the wall.
Joly looks around at the shake, eyes resting on the woman, "Badod? Where ab I? What ab I doidg here? Ohhh. By head hurts. I thidk I hab a codcussiod. Dat bust be why I'm dot awake."
Enjolras (in the street) says, "We need more wood. Let's go and fetch tables."
Grantaire says dryly, "You'd have to have, to be here of your own accord. - Pull yourself /together/, man."
Manon in her turn seems not to notice that she's being addressed. She blinks fiercely a couple of times, then shakes her head and whirls, striding out of the cafe.
Gavroche runs into Corinth, colliding with Manon in his haste.
Manon swears in a most unladylike manner, stumbling back.
Joly stares imploringly at Grantaire, "Oh, R, But I'b dot here! Ohh... I'b dot awake. I'b sick." he brinks for a moment, "O, do. Whad if I'b dead?"
Gavroche says, "Well, pardon me, Mamselle." He harrumphs and goes into the wineshop at an only slightly decreased speed.
Grantaire's tone grows even dryer. "You talk rather a lot for a dead man."
Mocky shortly collides with Manon as well.
Manon says, exasperated, "Child! -- Watch where you're --" She breaks off as Mocky crashes into her too. Never mind.
Mocky mumbles, "scuse me," and runs off after 'Vroche.
Gavroche says excitedly, "Let's take this one!" and begins tugging on one of the smaller tables. "Can I get some help here?" he bellows. "Come on, Grantaire. You're not too drunk to help. Joly?"
Manon shakes her head. So much for dramatic exits. She picks up her skirts and sweeps out.
Grantaire shoots the child a wry look. "Thank you so much." He gives Joly another little shake.
Joly looks befuddledly at the gamin(s). "Uh. Whad are we doidg?"
Gavroche looks disgusted. "Building a barricade, of course."
Grantaire murmurs, "Naturally. What else?"
Gavroche shakes his head and points at the two. "They're the useless ones," he says to Mocky.
Joly ... not that it much matters, as i'll either wake up and be somewhere else entirely or wake up and find myself dead... *mumble*
Mocky says, "Yah!"
Gavroche shrugs. "Oh well, I guess we can handle this table. You ready?"
Grantaire leans against the wall, unruffled. "At least we aren't impertinent," he says tranquilly.
Joly says, "A barricade. Right." "Against what?"
Gavroche says, "The National Guard." There is an unspoken 'Duh!' at the end of the answer.
Grantaire shakes his head as Joly lapses into bewildered nonresponsiveness. "Fortunes of war."
Gavroche sticks out his tongue at Grantaire. "I'd rather be rude than useless." He helps Mocky move the table out into the street, inch by inch, and asks scornfully, "What do you know about war anyway?"
Grantaire calls after him amiably, "Evidently. --Good question. What do you know about manners?"
Gavroche answers, "Lots. I just don't care."
Enjolras looks into Corinth to see if Manon and incidentally Grantaire have left. "What's wrong with Joly? What have you done to him?" he asks Grantaire in a very accusing tone.
Grantaire raises his eyes insouciantly. "Mon ami, I've done nothing with him. It's his own education that's done for him. Let that, as they say, be a lesson to you."
Outside, Manon picks her way across the street toward Courfeyrac, purposefully.
Courfeyrac glances up, sees Manon approaching, and bends again to pry at a paving stone.
Enjolras says, "And why haven't you left yet?"
Grantaire takes a long breath. "Why would I have left?" he says with remarkable patience.
Manon pauses beside Courfeyrac. "Idiot," she says quietly, matter-of factly. And leans down to dig up a stone of her own.
Enjolras says, "You obviously don't think much of the Republic, and you know perfectly well that this dangerous. Why risk your precious limbs?"
Grantaire regards him with an expression so far beyond exasperation it almost looks like calm. "For a visionary," he says mildly, "you can be remarkably blind."
Enjolras looks again at the catatonic Joly. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but that is nothing new. I have no more time to waste with you and your foolishness." He turns and leaves again, helping Gavroche and Mocky with their table on his way out.
Courfeyrac stands up to catch his breath and looks at Manon. "I'm an idiot because I'm here, but you're here, too. Are you an idiot, then?"
Grantaire mutters at the floor, "Of course not."
Manon scrapes at the dirt with her fingernails to loosen the stone. "Probably."
Courfeyrac smiles. "Good. Will you kiss me, then, you idiot?"
Manon looks up at him, sidelong, and then lets go of the stone and straightens. "Probably," she says again, more gently.
Courfeyrac straightens, too, and reaches out to her. "Eat, drink, and be merry. But there's no food, and no wine, so here we are."
Manon takes a breath, and lets it out again, reaching up to slip her arms around him. "Here we are," she agrees.
Grantaire, left alone with good old Joly, regards the floor darkly for a while.
Courfeyrac aims a kiss at Manon's cheek. "Yes."
Bossuet peeks in to check on Joly. "How is he doing?" he asks solicitously.
Manon smiles slightly, leaning against him.
Grantaire glances up. Then at Joly. Then back, with a shrug. "He's quiet, he's breathing."
Bossuet nods. "Yes. I could tell that. And what's wrong with you that you're just sitting in here?"
Grantaire says sourly, "I'm a useless unbelieving sot, I thought you knew."
Bossuet tsk tsks. "So? This is your chance to prove once and for all that you aren't, if that's what you want to do. Otherwise, find somewhere safe to drink and I'll take care of Joly."
Grantaire gives him a wry look. "Dying ignominiously is not an option, I take it?" He pushes himself lethargically away from the wall.
Bossuet grins. "Oh, if you want to, I'd bet you'd be really good at that. But why bother?"
Grantaire mutters, "Why indeed."
Bossuet asks, "Are you going to stay in here, then, where you'll be alone? I'm sure no one will bother you; he's far too busy."
Grantaire shoots him a dire look. "Right." He leans on the back of a chair for a moment, then trudges toward the door.
Bossuet shrugs, hiding his smile, glances at Joly again, and follows Grantaire out the door.
Grantaire aims a not unfriendly cuff at his shoulder on the way out, contriving /not/ to lose his balance thereby.
Gavroche greets Grantaire with "Look who finally decided to join us!"
Grantaire growls, "Keep it down, gamin, I've a reputation to maintain."
Enjolras looks up at Gavroche's announcement, and strides immediately to Grantaire. "Are you with us, then?"
Grantaire doesn't quite meet his eyes, though his stance is defiant. "So it would seem," he says rather ungraciously.
Manon glances to the pair, and just shakes her head.
Enjolras says only, "Good." Then, he turns back to his task.
Courfeyrac kisses Manon again. "Oh, don't mind them. They'll be fighting until they're both dead, at least."
Grantaire mutters, "Good. Indeed." And slouches off toward the corner of the barricade, presumably to find something useful to do.
Manon gives Courfeyrac a shake. "Don't /say/ that."
Courfeyrac says, "I didn't say how long that'd be, now, did I? They can fight 'til they're both grey and wrinkled for all I care. I just don't want to have to listen."
"Poor Grantaire." Manon nestles her head against his shoulder. "Poor Enjolras."
Courfeyrac says, "Yes. They're both idiots. Even more than we are."