Как-то мне было... смутно под конец пребывания в Хельсинки. И тут такая гениальная мысль: а давай перечитаем догвульфа!
А ДАВАЙ.
ну, сколько успела глав сохранить в макдаке, столько и прочла в автобусе.

тащилась больше, чем в первый раз. Даже... в разы. Особенно учитывая, что в первый раз меня реально начало тащить где-то со второй половины - не в смысле, что первая хуже, я просто втягивалась в фик и во вселенную.
А они такие! Такие... офигенные, нет слов, одни восторги, я бы смеялась не переставая, но была, кхм, в автобусе, поэтому просто тупо лыбилась в экран. Во весь рот.

"I also have this bald feeling of him being quite bald."

"You know, this really takes me back. I don't think I'd had two convicts fight over me since I was seventeen. Dame! Hey, don't stop on my account," he said breezily as Valjean took a step back and crossed his arms on his chest. "By all means, continue. Here, I even have a favor for the winner."

Javert reached into his trouser pocket, pulled out a large white handkerchief and began fanning himself with it daintily.

Ииии это попадает куда-то во все кинки, кажется. Блин.

"I would hardly call watching a fellow human being suffer 'entertainment'," he ground out.

For some reason this made Vidocq stop dead in his tracks.

"Oh, great," he said quietly and looked at Valjean with something akin to helplessness. "Another protector and champion. God damn. How does he do this?"

"How does he do what?"

Vidocq turned and stepped closer to Valjean until they were almost nose to nose.

"Don't flatter yourself, Valjean," he said, echoing peculiarly Javert's earlier words.