Jean Louis Duroc (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
napoleonical) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
novemberdays2014-07-16 12:43 pm
napoleonical) wrote in novemberdays2014-07-16 12:43 pm
LOG: a lingering disappointment
Title: A lingering disappointment
When: Late autumn, 2010.
What: The end of one crisis and the continuation of another.
Philippe takes his time, reading the final corrections over. The current draft is only a few days old, written in tandem by the minister of foreign affairs, the minister of security and at least three different lawyers. Jean Louis has read it over about fifty times and by the time he entered Barrault’s private quarters three hours earlier, the paper was already lined in red and black, circles and notations almost masking the original text. Together, they’ve probably used up all the energy available to the old man at the moment, what with this rather untimely flare-up of his disease but need’s must. It’s been a very chaotic three weeks, after all. If he’d actually had any real need of Philippe’s help or guidance, Jean Louis would have been mildly resentful about his current laying-about in bed but happily, he doesn’t and thus, he’s not. Come next week, he’ll be sure to make it obvious to everyone as well – that even though the media would like to think of Philippe Barrault as the real head of state regardless of his actual position, this crisis wasn’t solved by old hands. No, it was solved by the government as a whole and certainly, under Jean Louis’ leadership primarily.
He does look old, though, these days. Their current spokesperson for cultural values, a title he’s worded himself with as much care as he does everything else. Jean Louis has no sentimental feelings tied to Philippe Barrault, not as such, but he does recognise human decline when he sees it and it’s regretful, isn’t it? Ever since this mess with the Americans and their ridiculous surveillance neuroses erupted on Luxembourgian soil, he’s clearly been withering away. They say that sclerosis doesn’t have to be deadly but if the man persists like this for much longer, his case surely will be.
Adding a couple of extra corrections with a shaky hand, Philippe hands him back the paper with a nod, doing his best to look alert. Like a man who’s been sleeping all day whilst the rest of his party has been slaving away – nothing a million cups of coffee won’t fix, obviously, though he’s fairly sure his head is going to confine him to bed during the weekend. Nothing to be done about it. He thanks Philippe, reminds him to relax, bids him a nice weekend and heads for the door without another glance back, tired from a month of too little sleep as well as (and perhaps, more so) the feel of sickness lingering heavily in the room behind him.
When: Late autumn, 2010.
What: The end of one crisis and the continuation of another.
Philippe takes his time, reading the final corrections over. The current draft is only a few days old, written in tandem by the minister of foreign affairs, the minister of security and at least three different lawyers. Jean Louis has read it over about fifty times and by the time he entered Barrault’s private quarters three hours earlier, the paper was already lined in red and black, circles and notations almost masking the original text. Together, they’ve probably used up all the energy available to the old man at the moment, what with this rather untimely flare-up of his disease but need’s must. It’s been a very chaotic three weeks, after all. If he’d actually had any real need of Philippe’s help or guidance, Jean Louis would have been mildly resentful about his current laying-about in bed but happily, he doesn’t and thus, he’s not. Come next week, he’ll be sure to make it obvious to everyone as well – that even though the media would like to think of Philippe Barrault as the real head of state regardless of his actual position, this crisis wasn’t solved by old hands. No, it was solved by the government as a whole and certainly, under Jean Louis’ leadership primarily.
He does look old, though, these days. Their current spokesperson for cultural values, a title he’s worded himself with as much care as he does everything else. Jean Louis has no sentimental feelings tied to Philippe Barrault, not as such, but he does recognise human decline when he sees it and it’s regretful, isn’t it? Ever since this mess with the Americans and their ridiculous surveillance neuroses erupted on Luxembourgian soil, he’s clearly been withering away. They say that sclerosis doesn’t have to be deadly but if the man persists like this for much longer, his case surely will be.
Adding a couple of extra corrections with a shaky hand, Philippe hands him back the paper with a nod, doing his best to look alert. Like a man who’s been sleeping all day whilst the rest of his party has been slaving away – nothing a million cups of coffee won’t fix, obviously, though he’s fairly sure his head is going to confine him to bed during the weekend. Nothing to be done about it. He thanks Philippe, reminds him to relax, bids him a nice weekend and heads for the door without another glance back, tired from a month of too little sleep as well as (and perhaps, more so) the feel of sickness lingering heavily in the room behind him.