Javert had never been a man accustomed to much in the way of physical contact where it was not needed. In order to do the job, he had, of course, been forced to resort to it, but generally, every other use of it made his flesh crawl at the idea that one would be so intimate with a stranger, reminded him of what little he remembered of where he had come from and would not be sinking back into, thank you very much.

Which was how he found himself staggering about, the glare on his face deepening as he fought off a wave of nausea to stand, and stroll about as usual. Whether or not he would seek the contact on his own was still debatable. He was certain he had endured, and would endure worse when this God foresaken nightmare ended, but he was not in a position to turn it away either, should it be required.

Damn.