Disclaimer: Les Miz is not mine.
"Feuilly?" Enjolras holds parchment, inkwell, pens in his feminine hands as he stands politely in front of Feuilly's table. He always looks so much younger when he asks for something.
Feuilly knows what he wants. What he always wants. Tell me a story, Papa? What is Feuilly to Enjolras? A walking speech. A link for the privileged son to the real world, to the masses he wants to save. But he cannot save them, not when he doesn't understand them.
Even here, in this warm café amongst friends, Feuilly is faceless to Enjolras. Just another destitute living day to day.