"Jehan, aren't you going to join us?"
Courfeyrac lingered at the door of the Corinth, looking back at the man who lingered behind.
"I was only trying to wake him," Jehan Prouvaire was bent over Grantaire, who was passed out drunk on the floor, "He won't budge. I'm afraid he'll miss everything."
"That's his own problem. Get out here."
Prouvaire didn't move.
Courfeyrac groaned in exasperation.
"You can't tell me you're afraid, Jehan."
He walked to where his friend kneeled.
"I'm not. " Jehan stood up. Courfeyrac noticed his pocket were stuffed with flowers.
"You're going to pelt the national guard with flowers?"
"I may very well die today. What if there are no flowers where I go? I should like to plant a garden there."
Courfeyrac chuckled and clapped Jehan on the shoulder. Their eyes held for a moment.
Suddenly and almost spontaneously, Courfeyrac leaned forward and kissed him slowly on the lips.
"I'm sure it will be a beautiful garden," he whispered when he pulled away.
"Courfeyrac! Prouvaire! If you don't hurry, you'll miss all the fun!"
Somebody outside called them.
"Well, let's go then."
Courfeyrac released him, and the two left the Corinth.