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[Good morning-- Is it morning? Evening? Day! Good day! Courfeyrac still has a hard time determining this on this ship. There must be some sense of time, after all, even if not by the sun and moon. Regardless, here’s an early 19th century dandy who has writing all over his face in sharpie.

Yes. That’s correct. Not just writing, but terrible poetry and double entendres and all of the innuendo. All over his face.

But he’s still grinning all the same, because he knows exactly why this is the case. He rubs his eyes for a moment before actually addressing everyone, his smile mischievous.]

It should seem that I awoke this morning with writing all over my face. Alas, my mysterious scribe is nowhere to be found. Perhaps someone would be so kind as to read it for me? Everything appears reverse when I look into a mirror.

What’s more, if someone finds the culprit, please do return him to me, won’t you? I imagine he is wandering the halls with a permanent marker in hand looking particularly devious.

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[It's been too long since Combeferre has had cause to Eyebrow at his friends, really. Thanks for providing that opportunity though, Courfeyrac. He's shaking his head a little, at some of the poetry though, that's for certain.]

Did he write DRAFTS on you then? [It all reads like drafts and less like Jehan's work to him.] Whatever did you do to cause this? Was it the hair gel?

That is just the thing, my friend, I do not know. I cannot read them.

[No, that smirk suggests he knows exactly what they say. He will not, however, admit to it.]

I do believe it was the hair gel, yes. I believe this is a far more kind form of retaliation than what he could have done.

That is certainly true. The hairgel in particular was especially evil. But so, shall I come and read to you of his throes and fits of passion? The words of love he's intertwined with...[Combeferre squints a little, and, let it be said, his tones through this are dry as ever.] a throbbing pulse from deep inside himself?

[Yeah, Courf, he's making shit up. It's not like he can see the screen THAT well with his glasses.]

Why only think. You may well start a trend, the pair of you.

The hair gel was not intentional on my part! There should be no doubt that I would not willingly subject him to such a fate.

[But as he pretends to read a passage from his face, Courfeyrac flushes and glares.]

My friend, I'm sure there's nothing said quite so explicitly on my face. You are quite terrible, you know, for even suggesting such.

That should be counted as a weapon, truly. I would suspect it might be used as one, should the situation call for it. You could overtake an enemy, then gel them to something to incapacitate them by the time it dried...

[Oh dear. That look is on his face. The one where he is about to try SCIENCE!.

Let's back away from that thought for a moment then. He's smirking at Courfeyrac's reaction.]

Am I so terrible as ALL of that? You can't deny it MAY say something like that, can you? And I only speak of what I've read at some point or another.

[When Jehan did decide to check his device, from his spot in the kitchen, over a less-terrible-than-usual version of breakfast fare (who said that one could not learn?), he nearly choked on a sip of water when he saw Courfeyrac's face pop up upon it, still very much blackened with the words he'd written.

Words meant in revenge, yes, but for his eyes only. To keep him inside, and perhaps mildly whiny over the fate of his complexion; he had been rather ruinous towards Jehan's hair, after all, and it was a light, removable revenge.

...He ought to have known that Reynaud had no shame.

When he'd listened to the whole of the message, red-faced, he called back on video.]

Reynaud. You-! That.

A network message. Really.

[Yes, he is fuming.

Mostly with embarrassment.]

[Just the message he'd been waiting for. His lips slowly curled as he feigned innocence right back at Jehan.]

Jehan. I was merely curious as to what it all says, I truly cannot make sense of it myself.

I thought the good people of the ship would be happy to help since you were otherwise gone or occupied.

[He looks slightly horrified at that.]

Please do not give him any ideas, Michel. Please.

It may be something close to the sort, of that I am nearly certain... But it isn't that explicitly.

This being Jehan, and YOU, I would instead imagine that it borders on the sweet and sentimental.

[That's Combeferre hiding a grin there.] Perhaps with slight suggestions but...Jehan is not so blatant as ALL of that, you are right. And I do promise to do my best not to corrupt him. Truly.

...More than I fear that all of us already may have done.

At least the penmanship is nice. I'm not so sure about the rest of it.

That narrows it down some... Whomever was responsible for this has nice penmanship.

[Still playing like he doesn't know who it was. Oh but this is a fun game!]

[Well.]

I have heard there are vicious creatures waiting to prey on the unsuspecting here. I suppose that is what happens when you drop your guard.

And terrible rhyming. I hope this wasn't an attempt to woo you.

There's a dick on your eyelid.

[ No there's not. ]

You left your shoes on when you passed out, didn't you? That's like the number one party no-no.

Slight suggestions? My friend, I'm certain there may be things on my face that even I would blush at.

[For a split second.]

I trust that you do not intend to corrupt him, not with that intent certainly. However, even by mere suggestion of adhering me to the bed by use of hair product is enough to cause me worry.

I do believe that was the intent of all of this-- The terrible rhyming, not the wooing part. This is merely revenge, I am certain, for a slight I may have inadvertently done him.

..... Whoever this mysterious poet may be, that is.

Vicious creatures, you say? That worries me, as I only truly let my guard down in order to fall asleep. And this is how I awoke. I suppose I am most unsuspecting when I slumber, but how does one rest and remain alert I wonder?

I did not say you specifically, of course. Merely that it COULD be done.

[Have a extremely quirked eyebrow there, Courf.]

If you choose to read suggestion into my ideas for the advancement of...hair product science and the future, that is not my fault.

I'm sorry... A what?

No, I'm afraid it wasn't something so trivial. However, that is sound advice for the future, thank you.

So you weren't drunk?

[Asdfghjkl; Oh you know very well what you suggested, Combeferre.]

It was not your intention, then, to see such a fate befall me? I am not entirely certain that I believe this.

I was not, no. You see now how devious the culprit is, to have done this to someone asleep so peacefully.

Penis. [ Complete with lewd handmotion. ]

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