For a split second, he faltered - his heart skipped a beat in shuddering anxiety at the idea that he could not give Mimsy absolutely anything she wanted. What good was he, if he couldn't do that? It shook him to the core, and kept him silent as she thought through her options and chose where she was going to watch from. He let out a staggered breath, and leaned in to press his forehead against hers. His eyes closed and he tried to calm his fluttering heart, which he found harder than it should have been. Maybe his heart would never feel calm again. Every time his fingers brushed against her skin, it skipped. He hoped it was strong enough to survive this much emotion for the rest of his life.
"I believe you." He breathed out with total confidence, and bundled her up tightly in his arms for a quick, ferocious hug. Then he finished getting ready, dropping a fancy looking wig on his head and adjusting it appropriately. Makeup was only done by the makeup artists right before the show, so he attached the final touch of a sword scabbard onto his belt, and then scooped her back up into his arms.
"ONWARD!" Already he'd begun to fall into character, his boisterous voice taking on new life as it became the voice of Enjolras, the young aristocratic leader of the French resistance. His British accent made no sense considering their setting, but neither did the accent of almost every single person who'd ever played a character in Les Mis before. It was tradition.
Dumb tradition. But tradition nonetheless.
He carried her all the way to the stage, and slowly let her down onto her feet right beside the curtain. Props were already on stage, setting in place and ready to be interacted with. There was a soapbox ready for Enjolras to jump on and deliver his mighty, mostly-sung speech. But the lights had not come up yet, and neither had the final curtain. They were doing headcounts.
The backstage director saw him, holding the woman intimately behind the curtain, and checked his name off of the list with a roll of her eyes.
"You'll get a fair view here." His British accent did not leave him - he had to stay in character. "But you mustn't make a sound. Not one. And make no move to come closer, or they'll surely end us both." Dramatic much?
He was in character. And he was good at it.
He leaned down and kissed her, his lips warm with newfound passion. "Remember, no matter what, that I love you." And silently, he thanked God Enjolras didn't actually have a love interest, because it really did sound like he'd just said that.
