brickbybrick | open rp post!

[They've been on the road for about a day or so by now, and it's occurred to Grantaire that the entire time, Enjolras has been driving, drinking coffee and slamming Red Bulls like Grantaire himself slams absinthe. Which means, of course, a sleep-deprived Enjolras, and a sleep-deprived Enjolras = bitchy, cranky, excessively-caffeinated Enjolras.

It's simple math, really, and hey, miraculously enough, Grantaire isn't as drunk as he usually is. Granted, that's because he's trying to make the alcohol in his flask last longer, but he's sober enough to drive for a while, at least for long enough for Enjolras to do two things:

1.) quit bitching;
2.) and get some sleep.

So, to this end, he nudges Enjolras's shoulder.]

I know you find it hard to believe, but even you need sleep. I've slept in the backseat, and I can attest to how comfortable it is.

[ Were they to discuss Enjolras' current red bull consumption habits, well, it would be arguable that the way he'd been drinking was almost worse than Grantaire's absinthe consumption. At least with absinthe, there was a point where one could drink no more, and the body blacked out. With his Red Bull, it was starting to become a game of russian roulette as to whether or not Enjolras' heart would simply give up and burst. To Enjolras' knowledge, such a thing had never been reported- but hey, there was a first time for everything.

Still, it's been keeping him awake, and better still, has kept him from having to hand over the wheel. Which he was most certainly going to continue not doing for as long as possible. At least, until he was absolutely sure Grantaire was entirely sober. And sneaking sips from his flask, in his mind, was certainly not tolerably sober enough for driving.

At the other's elbow Enjolras doesn't even look over. His features just shift into an even steeper frown, and his fingers briefly flex upon the wheel- tighten, and release. ]

No. [ He says it flatly, in the sort of tone that normally would broker no argument- but Grantaire was inclined to argue with everything Enjolras said, and he did not doubt that it would extend to this, as well. ] I'm fine. I have gone longer on far less sleep, and if you think for one moment that I am about to crawl back there and nap you are mistaken. It doesn't even have seatbelts back there, Grantaire!

[ So it began again. ]

[Grantaire would honestly not be surprised if that happened, though it would be a crying shame, thus, why he's taken it upon himself to convince Enjolras to please get some sleep and let him drive.]

There are ropes, you can use those to tie yourself to the backseat. [He should know, he's done that more than once. Besides, what's life without a little risk?] Four hours of sleep while I drive will not, contrary to what you may think, kill us both. In fact, you'll find it much more beneficial to your health as opposed to, say, drinking can after can of Red Bull.

[And he isn't that drunk, he's most certainly not going to crash Dionysus into a lamp post or something if he takes the wheel. He likes his truck too much to do that.]

[ Finally Enjolras spared Grantaire half a glance- but it wasn't, by any means, a good one. It was a look of pure 'are you shitting me?' judgement; mildly appalled by such a suggestion as to tie himself down and call that 'safety'.

He really could not believe his ears.

Still, it probably said something that the normally eloquent Enjolras could not find the proper words to retort to such a suggestion, just released a huff of breath that was in no way a noise of agreement. ]

I said no, Grantaire. [ And just to continue to be defiant, he reaches for his recently-opened-already-half-empty-who-knows-what-number-red bull, and takes a long drag from the can, before letting it fall back into the cup holder with a huff. ]

[It works for him.

He lets out a breath. Of course it wouldn't be so easy to convince Enjolras to just hand over the wheel already. Of course.]

And I say at least pull over so you can get some sleep. We'll both be better off for it. [He won't make any promises about, oh, dragging him out of the driver's seat and pushing him into the backseat, though.]

Or what? [ It is a childish argument at best, and Enjolras knows it, but he has been awake for almost thirty hours now, and he's full of too much caffeine and his patience is worn thinner than usual. So his retort is snapped and petty and Enjolras simply does not have the energy to compose something with more thought. ] You cannot make me pull over.

[ Because really, no one wants an accident, and he doubts that even Grantaire is foolish enough to go so far. ]

No, but I can call Combeferre and ask him to lend me his support.

[Granted, Combeferre is probably asleep in some motel somewhere, for which Grantaire heavily envies him and the rest of the people in his van, but there are some things he's just not willing to do, and among them is risk causing an accident.]

You wouldn't dare. [ Enjolras' tone is harsh; some might even say murderous- but then again this speaks volumes to the power the other's threat holds. Combeferre is perhaps, the only man who can reason Enjolras into submission. Not every time, and certainly not about all matters- but some, at least. ]

Pull over and I won't.

[He's pretty sure it's somewhere in the glovebox.]

I don't need to pull over yet. You're making a big deal out of nothing.

[ Which, saying this of course means that Enjolras has to swallow on a yawn, struggle it down and lock his jaw so hard that Grantaire can probably see the muscles in his neck bulging. But whatever; so be it if it means he doesn't lose this fight.

He's not going to lose this fight, because he's not pulling over and he's certainly not sleeping in the back of this monstrosity. ]

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