Enjolras strolled up to the cafe, cigarette burning dramatically in his mouth. He could hear the voices of les amis de l'ABC inside. He listened for a moment, taking a long drag from his cig. No, not one of them was talking about the revolution. He wondered if it had been a bad idea to start a revolution with the hottest guys he could find rather than with actual patriots.

It didn't matter. He spat out the butt and ground it under his shoe. One way or another, it was all going to end soon. Then he would retire to the coast with a hero's fortune and maybe an ami or two.

A movement in the shadows caught his eye. "Who's there?"

"French Revolution!" came the small, cockney voice.

Shit, thought Enjolras. It's that gremlin. He glanced around. If no one was looking, he might be able to just off this one and blame the king. He reached for his concealed dagger.

"General Lamarque is dead!" piped Gavroche, stepping towards Enjolras. He smiled as though he enjoyed being the bearer of bad news.

Enjolras felt manly tears come to his eyes. So it had finally happened. He pushed the Gavroche aside and strode into the cafe, hardly cracking a smile when he heard him tumble into the dirty gutter.

The cheerful chatter died the instant Enjolras graced the room with his presence. He looked from face to face, lingering on Grantaire's. Grantaire rolled his eyes and took a swig of some poison or other. Enjolras' heart fluttered in his chest. That man was truly like a democratically elected and constitutionally bound prince charming. His grace was unmitagated even when he was too drunk to walk.

Enjolras tore his gaze away and tried to remember what he had been going to say. Oh yeah. "General Lamarque, the last voice for the people, has-"

He was cut off by a sudden commotion. He heard crashing and a string of half-hearted apologies as it neared the room, and then Marius Pontmercy strode in.

"You're late, Pontmercy," said Enjolras.

"Sorry, big day," replied Pontmercy with his idiot grin. He took a seat by Joly. "Lots happened. I mean, wow."

Enjolras waited for him to get settled. "As I was saying, Lamarque, who has been the last bastion of-"

"Okay, okay," interrupted Pontmercy. "I'll tell. So there I was, walking with what's-her-name on what will now be known as Rue de la Hubba-Hubba, when this gorgeous chick just comes walking by."

"No one," said Enjolras, "was asking what happened. Nor does anyone care."

Grantaire looked at Enjolras with a mischievous twinkle in his gorgeous bloodshot eyes. "How hot was she?" he called to Marius.

"Ten out of ten," said Marius. "Would bang!"

"This is a needless distraction!" yelled Enjolras. "There is to be no 'banging' before my revolution!"

"Why not?" asked Courfeyrac. "It's not like you won't. We all know whose room you'll be spending the night in, Enjolras."

Grantaire lifted his bottle high and the nearest ami gave him a pat on the back. Enjolras' cheeks burned. Was there no propriety anymore?

"Everyone," stressed Enjolras, "Is sleeping alone tonight." He shot a pointed look at Grantaire, who simply stuck out his tongue and drank from his bottle as if to say I wouldn't be able to get it up anyhow.

Marius continued undeterred. "So I'm all, 'Ponine, you know your way around, right? Why don't you go figure out where that hot piece of ass lives so Pontmercy can get some."

"Pontmercy," said Enjolras, "if you say one more word, I swear to Patria that I'll-"

"Sorry, Enjy, can't wait. Eponine's back with news." And off he ran.

Enjolras took a deep breath. "Well, now that he's gone-"

"What if I only took home one girl?" asked Courfeyrac. "It's hardly banging if neither of us bring a friend."

Enjolras gave up.

"Lamarque's dead, bring your guns, practice your lyrics." He stormed off, grabbing Grantaire on the way.

"You hypocrite," whispered the drunk in his ear.

"I'm just seeing you to bed." Enjolras turned around. "I'm just seeing him to bed."

He didn't think it was necessary to mention the bed in question was his own.