Enjolras showed Feuilly the note from Combeferre. As Feuilly poured over its contents, Enjolras watched Courfeyrac kneel and talk with his friends.
"So what are you boys up to?" Courfeyrac asked after introducing himself.
"We're not sure." René replied sadly. "We're not even sure where are parents are."
Jean's eyes widened. "I hadn't thought about that…where is Maman anyway?"
"Maybe they left us and we'll be put in a foundling home?" Michel suggested brightly.
"I don't wanna go to a foundling home!" Charles-Leon cried.
"Maybe we've been bad…and that's why." Jean's eyes were even wider with horror.
Courfeyrac felt mildly alarmed. "Oh! No, no. Ah…your er…parents…. thought you'd enjoy a little trip to Paris…and in a little bit…er um er…. we are going to visit someone…. er…. yeah."
Lyle frowned. "But why wouldn't they come with us?"
"Er…this is a special trip…just for boys."
"Oh."
Courfeyrac grinned slightly. "Nice hair kiddo. Enjoy it while you can."
"Courfeyrac!" Enjolras snapped.
"Sorry!" Courfeyrac tousled Lyle "Bossuet's' hair and took the note from Feuilly and read it eagerly.
Enjolras cleared his throat. "Well, Mademoiselle Musichetta, we'll simply gather the…boys and your sister and head towards the street where Combeferre indicated this happened in his note."
Musichetta nodded cheerfully. "Come on Marquette." She called.
There was no response.
Marquette was obviously not in the room and this discovery made a frown crease Musichetta's forehead.
It was Feuilly who noticed the other missing party. His eyes bulged slightly as he pondered the implications of this double absence. "Oh—Courfeyrac…ummm….Enjolras…do you notice that of the ABCs we are missing….one?"
Enjolras stared blankly at his workingman friend.
"You know…R." Feuilly continued weakly.
Enjolras whipped around and surveyed the room. "Oh…" a curse word was muttered under his breath, half obscured by the slight coughing laugh of Courfeyrac.
"So my sister has gone off with a younger version of Grantaire?" Musichetta, asked scowling.
"Er…it would appear…thus." Enjolras stammered. He had hoped that the young woman would be too dense to pick up on it.
"My dear, dear, Enjolras." Musichetta walked over, and kissed him briefly on the lips. "I may be foolish, but I am not stupid." She patted his cheek and motioned for the boys, all of who were gagging and retching at the site of the kiss, to follow her.
Enjolras stood angrily glaring at her back. "I don't like her at all." He muttered as he roughly rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I suddenly understand Jolllly's fascination for the girl!" Courfeyrac said wistfully. "Lynette isn't half as forward."
"No personal boundaries…no decorum…. she actually kissed me…on the lips!" Enjolras fumed.
"She certainly is feisty." Feuilly said affably.
"The lips!" Enjolras cried. He couldn't for the life of him understand why his friends weren't more upset by this.
"Wish she had given me a peck." Courfeyrac sighed.
"What is wrong with you?" Enjolras cried, vexed beyond endurance. "I was standing here, minding my own business, when suddenly without warning, and certainly without provocation, a little dark haired female comes up and places her fetid lips on mine and kisses me."
"Whoa, easy there." Courfeyrac said dryly. "If you continue like that you'll give poor Prouvaire a run for his money. And we really only need one poet in the group."
Feuilly smirked at Enjolras bewildered fury. "Speaking of him, shouldn't we join the others?"
"Yes." Enjolras snapped and stormed passed them down the stairs.
"I think he's mad because he liked it." Courfeyrac said to Feuilly as they too started to descend.
"She's not my type!" Enjolras fumed from below, suddenly unable to contain himself. "I like nice girls. Quiet girls. Girls who don't throw themselves at me because they think I'm attractive! Do you have any idea how annoying that is?"
"No. Wish to God I did." Courfeyrac said somewhat sadly.
"Well! Maybe when we find this gypsy woman she can contract something for a man afflicted with the mind of a child as well." Enjolras growled, before storming out of the building, nearly running into Musichetta who was standing just outside.
"Lets go." Enjolras snarled.
"Okay." Musichetta said and for the first time Enjolras noted a bit of anxiety in her voice. "Only are we going to find my sister first? I mean, if it had been anyone else…with the exception of you Courfeyrac, you know I love you regardless sweetie, that I wouldn't care so much…but seeing as its Grantaire…"
Feuilly tapped his chin with a long finger. "Why don't Courfeyrac and I go find them? Then you two can take the others."
Musichetta threw her arms around Feuilly's neck. "You are always such a gentleman, David." She released him and smiled at him. "Thank you."
To Enjolras' surprise Feuilly looked neither embarrassed nor upset with Musichetta for this violation of his personal space. On the contrary, he kissed her fingertips and replied, "We'll get him back to you…sneezes, hypochondria and all. And your sister's safety is garunteed. Grantaire might be a lot of things, but his ethics are not in questionable in the slightest. Unlike some men I could mention." He gave a sharp look at Courfeyrac who was ogling the hemline of a passing seamstress.
Courfeyrac looked up sharply and then he Musichetta both laughed. He and Feuilly then went in the opposite direction to search for the two teenagers.
Enjolras looked at Musichetta in a new light as she looked sadly at Joly's blonde hair. This was not just some empty-headed female…this was someone who cared very deeply…perhaps…. loved…one of his friends. The revelation was disturbing. Brotherly love he understood and venerated, something he desired for all of humanity. But romantic love was lost on him…and he suddenly felt less of a man for it. Though he certainly did not like Musichetta any more than he had, he now found grudgingly that he had to at least respect her existence.
"Well?" Enjolras said suddenly, his voice still commanding, but it had lost its chilling edge.
"Well." Musichetta replied softly.
And the two herded the boys down the street.