A/N: This chapter is shorter than the first, but I'm having trouble writing right now, so I wanted to get this out so you don't think I've forgotten about it. Next update might take a little longer - we'll see. Enjoy!
Enjolras looked up from his writing as the sound of the door opening filled his ears. He discovered that the figure was his closest friend, Combeferre.
"I walked past Joly on the way here and we have excellent news! The people at both the Picpus and the Dupuyren have responded quite well to our words. I believe they will join us!" Combeferre reported happily, but his countenance quickly fell when he noticed the look on his friend's face. "What's troubling you, mon ami?" He asked quietly.
Enjolras could feel the blood inside himself boiling. "Grantaire has failed his task. I checked on him once I finished at the Cougourde and found him playing dominoes and drinking! I trusted his word and he betrayed that trust. He cannot be part of us if we cannot trust him with anything!" He paused to gather his thoughts and calm down a little. "I wanted to believe he could do it, but he has proven me wrong. What should I do, Combeferre? He is a disgusting drunkard who cares nothing for the people or the troubles of this world, and yet I cannot exile him."
Combeferre sighed. "Perhaps he truly did want to please you. He is only human, Enjolras, and humans succom to weakness. Even you." He could see his friend open his mouth in calm protest, but Combeferre held up a hand. "I know you do not believe yourself to be without flaws. You are not so foolish. But you have to be more patient with Grantaire.
"you know gambling and drinking are tempting to him. I am certain he went to the café intent on completing his assigned task, but someone must have offered to play with him. When our cynical friend returns, why not speak to him?" the medical student finished.
"Thank you, mon ami, I will try." Enjolras agreed and returned to his papers.
The cynic, however, did not return. He did not return that night, nor did Enjolras hear from him the next morning. The days progressed as usual with little difference or incident.
"perhaps you should speak with him, Enjolras." Jean Prouvaire suggested in his wise young voice. "He is afraid of what you'll say. Grantaire seems to care for nothing, but yet I think he values your opinion of him."
Enjolras nodded and stood. "Do you know where he lives, Prouvaire?"
"Oui, here is the address." The poet replied and pressed a note into Enjolras' hand. The latter nodded his thanks and left, studying the note as he went.
The address was a squalor apartment Which fit Grantaire's appearance well. The windows were covered in grime, the steps were worn, and it smelt of mold.
Enjolras went inside and found an old woman washing the stairway "Bonjour,madam, could you tell me where Grantaire is?"
The old woman looked up from her work, unhappy at being interrupted, and nodded. "In there, Monsieur." she gestured to a door to Enjolras' left with her wrinkled hand.
"Thank you." Enjolras replied and walked up to the previously mentioned door. The door seemed even more worn to his eyes than the rest of the apartment had thus far. He knocked firmly, but when there was no reply, he called, "Grantaire, let me in!"
There was a groan and an, "Apollo?" But after a few minutes, the door swung open and our favorite cynic stood before the puritan leader. The stench of the room filled Enjolras' nostrils and it was difficult not to collapse, but he managed. "What do you want?" Grantaire asked in a tone difficult to place a name on. It was miserable, but there are many combinations for which that name could be assigned.
"you have not made yourself known to the Les Amis in many days." Enjolras began. "Perhaps we should talk."
