What? Quoi? Lucien De Courfeyrac, or Luc Courfeyrac as he preferred generally to be known both by amis and lovers, was confused. Whatever had just happened, had happened so swiftly and with so little warning that all he was left with was a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach that something had occurred which hadn't been nice. Not at all. Dom looked both stunned – a feeling he could empathise with – and uncomfortable – another feeling with which Lucien was currently growing quite familiar.

Grantaire? GrandR? A spy? A traitor? Luc found that he couldn't even begin to imagine the poor old sot having enough sheer willpower to shamble out of the café and find his way – would he even know the way? – to whatever small and nasty beaurocratic office was in charge of taking nefarious complaints against noble and handsome egalitarian students such as themselves.

What was going through Enjolras' brilliant blonde head? Dieu knew His Brilliant-ness was never wrong, but seriously. Seriously. Grantaire? If one were to allow him – even in a hypothetical situation – the will and sheer coordination to do such a thing, anyone knew, and who better to know than his own amis like Luc and Dom themselves, that the winecask just didn't have the nerve for things like that.

His Brilliantness had stopped glaring as though some Royalist Soldier had stood up in their midst and started singing the English national anthem, and was now just looking austere. "Combeferre, you mentioned several interested parties. Do you think this latest event likely to affect our ability to reach out to them?"

Combeferre had a list. Well now, wasn't that just the surprise of the day? "I do not think so. They seemed concerned only with the cause with no particular worry about their personal safety."

"Excellent." Enjolras had taken the list and now appeared to be committing it to memory. The pair of them were both quite impressive and quite honestly intimidating at the same time. How they managed to coordinate themselves into quite this state of excessive coordinated efficiency was beyond him. Perhaps it was part of a secret plan on Enjolras part to disconcert the forces of tyranny. "Exactly the type of men we need."

Combeferre did that serious little nod thing he had perfected down to an art form and seemed to enter a sort of Holy Comunion where he and Enjolras looked at each other and at the notes and conversed without actually opening their mouths. Huh. Luc got tired of watching and trying to figure out what they were communing about and instead leant a bit closer to Dom and whispered, "Well that went over wonderful, didn't it amigo?"

"Huh, just perfectly." Dom snorted in his signature way.

And there was the awkward silence being awkward again. Like the big iron elephant had decided to take a little walk to the café, sat down in Grantaire's vacated seat and started drinking his unfinished absinthe. The Gemini looked disturbed, Feuilly positively confused, and even Enjolras and Combeferre's communing had a subdued sort of silence to it.

His job again to get everyone back on track. Like always. What ever would they do without him? "I've got some volunteers we might not want, Enjolras."

"Every willing hand counts." Enjolras stopped communing and gave him that clear-eyed look which would be enough to stop an entire army in its tracks.

"Yes, but these men seem to be attracted by recent events, and I don't like the way they've approached me. It smells of fish and criminals." As in a lot of nudge-nudge, wink-wink, say-no-more and if you could see your way, good sir, to finding out how those friends of yours, good sir, happened to get out of that prison they were in, good sir… we'd be mightily grateful. And how would you like to get cut a deal on this beeeeyoutiful diamond ring? Belonged to a countess, it did.

Even Enjolras's perfect countenance wrinkled at the thought, as though he were smelling something even more unpleasant than the scent of wilted drunkard. "Ah. That changes things."

"I was sure it would," see? Awkward silence all gone, amis. Am I good or what? "…but I figured you should know we appear to be getting some attention from that quarter."

Enjolras nodded. "Definitely undesirable. Ours is a noble cause tainted with criminality only by virtue of the criminalization of justice."

"One has to wonder what kind of men the government marrs with the brand of criminal - when their own moral structure is so sadly lacking." Combeferre added, no longer content with the silent commune, obviously.

What were they talking about? He gave an understanding sort of nod in their direction, hoping this was an appropriate reaction. Dieu. They could just as well be speaking in Latin.

Apparently this was an appropriate response, for Enjolras nodded back at him solemnly. "Indeed. We live in dark times. And yet light is near, if only we can reach out and strike the match."

"And they may try to surround us with gunpowder... but in the end it will be they who are consumed by the flames." Combeferre said softly. There was that slow-burning flame in his eyes that was tiny and cool compared to the star-like blaze that burned in Enjolras, but steadfast and eternal and long-lasting.

The others were caught up in it now, the little poet all starry eyed over the metaphors, Gemini actually distracted from their twin-like mutual worry, Feuilly on fire for something other than art and Poland for once, and even Dom looking a little less awkwardly mutinous.

"Blind as they are, they cannot see that the traps they lay for us are really traps for themselves." Enjolras had risen and was pacing up and down, his hand moving in fluid, furious gestures. "No, we shall turn the tables against them, no matter how many times they try to put us down - we shall beat them at their own game!"

"There shall be freedom." The louder and more energetic Enjolras got, the quieter Combeferre seemed to get. He was sitting very still, his eyes aimed on their leader, his face glowing.

"There shall! Rail against it though they may, they cannot stop its inevitable march."

The glow spread from Combeferre's eyes across his whole face, his quiet passion balancing and completing Enjolras' fury and flame. "Like the march of dawn over a mountain, it will light all the skies and every man will be able to see the truth with his own eyes."

At that Enjolras stood still, the tides and storms of his great passion suddenly calm. He opened his arms, welcoming them all into the new world, free men. And although Luc felt the tide of passion and awe carry him along with them, he couldn't help but think about the one man who wasn't welcome. Sad thought. Dark corner for all those outside. Gnashing of teeth, and all that. But Enjolras was talking, and Luc found he'd forgotten whoever it was he had been thinking about. "So it shall. And whether we live or die we shall be its cause."

Combeferre nodded, and Enjolras sat back down and accepted a glass of water from his ever-ready assistant and lieutenant and whatever else Combeferre was. "Are there any questions or issues?"

No one answered Combeferre's question. No one wanted to break the glorious spell Enjolras had woven over them all.

The rest of the meeting proceeded as usual. There was quite a heated discussion about Polignac and the indications that he was preparing to send armed troops to Algiers, stupid idea - Luc thought, but then most of his ideas were stupid with the few that weren't bordering instead on the moronic. Combeferre exhorted everyone to continue writing to the Journals and the Papers and making contacts around other Republican groups, and Enjolras drew on both Voltaire and Rousseau as illustrations of the fallacies in both the king and Polignac's policies, before talking with each of them individually on their assignments and then winding the meeting towards a close, not a moment too soon for Lucien's liking. All my heart for the Cause, mon capitain, but you realise though I would gladly indeed miss my date with my girl if you were to ask, I am nonetheless terribly happy I am not going to be required to.

"Good then, good then. I think...we're just about finished, then?" Enjolras looked around them all with a not-quite-seeing glaze over his eyes. No doubt he was still gazing on the glories of the Cause and the beauty of Patria. At their nods, he made a slightly abortive gesture. "Well - meeting adjourned."

Meeting over, Luc put his arm around Dominic's shoulder. "Drink?"

"Sure, why not?" Dominic was usually a little more emphatic about alcohol, so Luc put it down to the rather unnerving beginning of the meeting. Good. They were both on the same page, then. The others were drifting out of the café, and Combeferre appeared to be presenting Enjolras with various lists and notes that needed his attention.

The Gemini were among the last to leave, checking on each other in the way only really the Gemini did. The Eagle fretting over his Joli and Joli being his usual sickly self and finally them both just deciding to return to their shared flat. Lucien caught it all out of the corner of his eye as he bought a couple of glasses of some sort of foul red brew and took them back to Dom.

"Thanks, ami."

Luc sat back down, grinning a little as Lesgle knocked something over and spent the next five minutes apologizing to an indulgent Louison. Joly finally managed to drag his twin away, and Combeferre apparently had given Enjolras one list too many – must've been something ridiculous like a list of meals to eat for the next week – for Enjolras stuck the papers in his pocket, gave Combeferre a very respectable glare, and snapped, "Damn it, I can take perfectly good care of myself. And you know it," before storming out of the café. Combeferre shook his head and nodded goodbye to them both before leaving himself, followed in short order by Feuilly.

" What, is it just you and me?" Dom cast a quick glance around the café.

"Just we two."

"Just as well."

"...yes." He took a swig of the wine and wondered not for the first time why Grantaire would possibly want to drink so much of the foul stuff. "So... what do we do, then?"

"Hoped you had some idea." Dom seemed less concerned by the taste of the wine, but then hell Dom didn't have the benefit of Luc's splendid palette.

"Damned if I do. Do you think it was him?" Time to see if they really were on the same page. Luc set a lot of store by Dominic's opinion, possibly even a little more store than by Enjolras. In matters which concerned Grantaire, anyway.

Luckily, Dom's response was empathic. "Absolutely not. Why'd he ever pull something like that?"

"At the very least, he'd never have th' ambition." Luc said with a small grin.

"Or the nerve, I think."

Hearing Dominic say so made him feel just a little less guilty about thinking it himself. After all, no home likes to think his mates aren't – well – all that… uh… brave. But there was no getting around the fact that GrandR was just not the heroic type. "Aye - or that. Or even the enthusiasm. So... should we talk to Enjolras about it?"

"That would be the question." Dom appeared to be intending to leave all the decisions up to him tonight. Merde.

He scowled at his wine in the hopes that the vintage might be useful for something other than drinking. Maybe inspiration. Perhaps. "Mmm. He's not fond of GrandR at the best of times. It'd take some convincing." Oh. Did you hear that? That's me. Committing understatement.

"A lot of convincing. D'you think he'd even let us get a word in edgewise?"

Several images of Enjolras's possible reaction passed through Lucien's head very fast, and he winced. "I'm sure he'd be very nice about not letting us get a word in edgewise."

"Excruciatingly nice."

"Yeah. That's the word for it." They exchanged a glance and both drained their glasses. Say what you will, it took a brave, brave man to go against Enjolras.

"Maybe if we get Combeferre over first?" Dominic offered helpfully, seeming to have found something like inspiration at the bottom of his glass.

"Well - oui. That might work he's less... less..." What was a nice, polite way to say 'rude' 'prejudiced' 'judgmental'?

"Close-minded."

Thank you, Dominic. "That's the one."

"So you think we should give it a shot?" Dom inspected his glass for any traces of further alcohol, didn't find any, and seemed faintly disappointed.

"I think so. Poor bastard needs someone to speak up for him." No one else seemed willing to point out that freedom and equality was all very well, but what use was it really when one man is dumped out in the cold to rot merely because he wasn't as good-looking or brave as anyone else?

"'Struth, no two ways about it." Dom said rather seriously. Not normal for his friend to look so solemn about – well – anything.

"Maybe we can catch 'Ferre tomorrow before his classes."

"You mean at the university?" To his amusement this was what wiped the seriousness out of his ami's face and replaced it with sheer nausea.

He chuckled. "It's the Medical School, mon ami... I doubt there will be any Legal Professors there to net you and drag you to their classes."

"Good. You know I'm allergic to going to classes." Dom offered him a relieved kind of grin, and Lucien wondered not for the first time why Dominic Bahorel even pretended to attend university at all.

"Make you come out in spots, get dizzy, and develop an insane affinity for strong booze, I'd noted."

"The very symptoms."

Just like Joly coming down with the plague. "Well - his first class is at ten. We could meet him before that."

"It's a date."

Talking of dates… Dieu! He swilled back whatever was left in his glass and got to his feet quickly. One pretty femme, one restaurant too big for his purse, and one delightful night of pleasures afterwards. Much as he loved his ami, he was not missing this for a world of friendship. "I'll see you then, Ami. Now - Marguerite is waiting for me. Sweet sweet girl."

The barbarian had the effrontery to snicker. "She for whom you put on whatever is making you smell like a flowerbed?"

Just because you can't get one, ami… "She who wears these scents and keeps getting 'em all over my clothes. She's wonderful. So sweet and caring and loving and..." Dominic patted him on the shoulder.

" ...right, ami."

Of course right. Luc grabbed his hat, put it on his head and gave Dominic his very best 'I'm getting kissed tonight and you aren't' grin before hurrying out of the café with visions of loveliness in his head.