[ Claude has never doubted that Jean Louis was a great politician, rotten views, certainly, but a master at the craft of it and he proves it now, meeting Claude's mother's very obvious dagger with the perfect shield. Her own words. Claude sips his champagne for a moment in silence, letting the rest of Jean Louis' words pass by without comment - not because it doesn't touch him that the other man is trying to turn the attention back to his very personal victory two days prior, but because - as with everything else that's driven by human interaction, politics and otherwise - it's also an obvious attempt at turning the attention away from himself.
Everything has its reasons, its hidden agendas. He can hope for a better world all he wants, but reality is currently this.
And it's not exactly because Jean Louis' story is an obligatory subject in this space. What's his is his. Claude is just happy to share it with him, in private or publicly. Whenever he's ready. He pushes back with his knee beneath the table, they're sitting that close. Like their proximity is the anchor.
His mom, however, does look visibly surprised for a moment, like she never expected to be remembered by anyone. Her career has had many disappointments, to have someone like Jean Louis quote something she must have said at least half a decade ago, an eternity in the political sphere, is a kudos. An unapolegetic one.
Like everything else Jean Louis does.
Claude smiles. ]
Sounds like something you'd have said before doubling the requirements for social security. That's at least two terms ago. You've been immortalized, Maman. Much deserved.
[ It's not sarcasm and his mother looks at him, evidently not taking it for such. ]
[ His answer, Jean Louis', is to quote her, something she said more than five years ago in a speech at a congress that should have secured her a ministry but didn't, because no matter what Claude would like to believe and no matter what he fights for, her darling son, the world is not fair. People don't always get what they're due, but if they don't do the work, they get even less. That is the only fairness there is. She looks at him silently for a long moment, her expression openly surprised, then she smiles, wide, like Claude sometimes smiles, it's the only feature he's inherited from her, minus his hair colour. That's hers as well.
And he is, of course. Little Claude. He sips his wine and comments that she's been immortalized, which is in his idea of liberalism the utmost honour. Camille thinks, looking from him to Jean Louis before taking a long sip of her own champagne, that it's because he refuses to understand. He isn't stupid, he could grasp the liberal values if he so chose.
I simply chose, Jean Louis said - then drawing attention back to Claude and the bill he's been fighting for months and months of hard work. And sometimes you do not get your due, but other times you do.
Still smiling, softer, she meets Claude's eyes. ]
Some things take priority, evidently, and when we set our minds to it, it will succeed if we want it enough. [ Liberal values through and through. She looks over at Jean Louis. ] I think Claude has simply chosen as well.
[ The bill, she means. And him. Claude has chosen him. ]
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no subject
Everything has its reasons, its hidden agendas. He can hope for a better world all he wants, but reality is currently this.
And it's not exactly because Jean Louis' story is an obligatory subject in this space. What's his is his. Claude is just happy to share it with him, in private or publicly. Whenever he's ready. He pushes back with his knee beneath the table, they're sitting that close. Like their proximity is the anchor.
His mom, however, does look visibly surprised for a moment, like she never expected to be remembered by anyone. Her career has had many disappointments, to have someone like Jean Louis quote something she must have said at least half a decade ago, an eternity in the political sphere, is a kudos. An unapolegetic one.
Like everything else Jean Louis does.
Claude smiles. ]
Sounds like something you'd have said before doubling the requirements for social security. That's at least two terms ago. You've been immortalized, Maman. Much deserved.
[ It's not sarcasm and his mother looks at him, evidently not taking it for such. ]
no subject
And he is, of course. Little Claude. He sips his wine and comments that she's been immortalized, which is in his idea of liberalism the utmost honour. Camille thinks, looking from him to Jean Louis before taking a long sip of her own champagne, that it's because he refuses to understand. He isn't stupid, he could grasp the liberal values if he so chose.
I simply chose, Jean Louis said - then drawing attention back to Claude and the bill he's been fighting for months and months of hard work. And sometimes you do not get your due, but other times you do.
Still smiling, softer, she meets Claude's eyes. ]
Some things take priority, evidently, and when we set our minds to it, it will succeed if we want it enough. [ Liberal values through and through. She looks over at Jean Louis. ] I think Claude has simply chosen as well.
[ The bill, she means. And him. Claude has chosen him. ]