(( la foule ))

[downplaying]

You've reached Claude Bérubé.

I'm currently not available.
Please leave a message
and I'll call you back as soon as possible.

If you're contacting me
regarding any kind of journalistic work,
you can also reach me via email:
claudeberube at freepress dot com.

Thank you.




[This is the post for IC contact with Claude.
Text, audio and action - everything goes.]

Comments

action;

[downplaying]

Okay. [He pauses for emphasis.] What did they do?

[Driving in inner Luxembourg City is pretty much impossible, especially if you have anything but one of these fashionable modern city cars that everyone and (especially) their wives have. Fortunately, Claude is a pretty competent driver, if he has to say so himself, so they're quickly passing the bridge leading over the cleft separating the city into two halves.]

action;

[justcrywolf]

[Shit, Claude drives like a fucking psychopath. He grits his teeth, taking a long moment to answer. Why's the man even asking questions? He just wants to go home to his couch and his computer!]

Apparently, we have sex. [He manages a very stiff shrug, the bridge passing by quickly outside the window, the engine noisy enough that he has to raise his voice a bit. Ugh. Piece of crap.] It's breaking news.

action;

[downplaying]

[He has to hit the brakes as the traffic light changes to red, a couple of teenage girls crossing the street and obviously laughing at his car. Eyes narrowing slightly, he mutters a couple of vulgarities in French underneath his breath. His temper always gets the better of him when he's driving. Thus, the implications of what Vincent's just said don't hit him until the light's green again and he can gain enough momentum to change gears.]

Why would they suddenl-- [--y find it interesting that you have sex? Was the question he was about to ask. Now, turning his head to look at Vincent, seeing him shift uncomfortably in his seat, it dawns on him.] Oh.

action;

[justcrywolf]

[Oh, indeed. Vincent crosses his arms, wincing again as the car puts on speed again, as much as it's capable of. One day, he's going to scrap it when Claude isn't looking. Buy him a new one. Not a fucking Beetle, either.]

Anyway. [He scowls.] Working from home, no big deal.

action;

[downplaying]

You know, love...

[It's said rather gently, not with a single note of sarcasm and none of the harshness with which he speeds up as they hit the outskirts of the city.]

Something like this borders on harassment.

action;

[justcrywolf]

Yeah.

[He shrugs and leans back in the seat. Doing his best not to... sit on his arse. A challenge, there.]

It's just culture. Don't really care.

action;

[downplaying]

An unhealthy culture.

[But that's all he has to say on the matter, really. It's Vincent's choice entirely to work for the CDP and Jean Louis - and if Claude ever nursed a hope of making him quit, it's long dead. Gripping the steering wheel a bit more tightly, he fixes his eyes on the road, mostly deserted at this time. Rush hour over hours ago.]

action;

[justcrywolf]

[He doesn't answer straight away, partially because he's got nothing to say - it's true and he still doesn't give a shit - but mostly because his phone is vibrating in his pocket. He answers it quickly, utterly unsurprised that it's taken Jean Louis a good twenty minutes to realise that the day's schedule is now completely fucked.]

action;

[downplaying]

[The conversation is easy to follow, but he doesn't eavesdrop - mostly in an attempt to allow Vincent the discretion that his job requires. The one aspect of it that Claude has always respected. Instead they make their way homeward in the half-silence that is Vincent coolly answering Jean Louis' tirade and Claude saying nothing to interrupt it.]