Some of the students went to get drinks, others left to go to the bathroom, and the others all helped to open any other windows that would allow it. Combeferre spoke to their teacher, and a minute later had begun the task of coming up with new traits and new professions to put in a box each for those who wanted to pull new cards. The sight of the teacher bringing out a small bag of black and yellow balls, however, had the young man intrigued, although when he asked about them he was simply told to 'wait and see'.

Keeping a hand up to steady him, Enjolras watched as Grantaire strained to get the last one of the windows open, eventually succeeding and jumping down from the chair.

"Careful…"

"Ah, I'm fine – I'm pretty indestructible."

Making sure they were out of earshot of the others, Grantaire gently took Enjolras' arm and lead him a few feet further away, keeping his voice low and his expression hopeful.

"Can we talk?"

"Weren't we anyway?"

"I mean, about…what's going on. Back in that round were you just playing up to your card? If you were then that's totally fine, I mean no harm done or anything, I was just wondering-"

"Do you think I was playing up to it?" Enjolras asked, folding his arms loosely across his front. In reply, Grantaire could only shrug.

"I don't know – I liked talking to you, and getting to know you better. I think we can get on well, and I know I can make you laugh…But I also don't want to think that this was completely one sided. Well, more so than usual anyway."

"What are you actually asking me, Grantaire?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, with his pulse pounding and his mouth suddenly very dry, Grantaire went to speak, when he was interrupted by the other's coming back into the room, all engrossed in their own loud, merry conversation. Taking a swig of his drink, Courfeyrac held out his arms and proclaimed to the world – or at least, to the room;

"Alrighty, who's ready for the next reaping?" to which the general answer was a heat-weary 'Me'. Turning from him back to Grantaire, Enjolras pressed him for an answer, though it was obvious the interruption had meant any nerve he'd built up had long since retreated. Giving the best smile he could, Grantaire shook his head, dark curls gently bouncing from side to side.

"It's fine, don't worry about it"

"No, tell me." Catching his arm, Enjolras all but forced the other to stop and look at him. His expression had gone from one of hope to one of sudden desperation. "What were you going to say? Tell me, I want to know."

"Enjolras, you know what I was going to tell you…and I know what your answer would be."

"No, I don't-"

"You do. And unless you're going to turn round and tell me 'yes', then please don't make me embarrass myself."

Frowning with a frustrated sigh, Enjolras released his arm and left him without a word, re-joining the group as the teacher introduced the two new boxes.

"This has new job cards, and these are the new traits. If you want to change either one of your cards or both, come up one at a time and read them out."

The first was Courfeyrac, who'd decided he wanted a new trait – evidently, 'compulsive liar' hadn't worked too well in his favour.

"Okay, I'm a mechanic who…is a hoarder. Really? Who wrote these?"

Giving his friend a smirk, Combeferre held up his hands.

"Hey, I only had a short amount of time to think of things, so sue me."

"I would take you up on that if you weren't the only Lawyer left in France." Courfeyrac replied sulkily, though he still returned to sit at Combeferre's feet, lifting an arm to make room for Jehan to lean against him. Up next was Joly, who dipped a hand into both boxes.

The look on his face after reading his new profession was absolutely priceless.

"What is it?"

"What are you?"

"…I'm a stripper."

As predicted, the room dissolved into a fit of immature giggles, with both Musichetta and Bossuet laughing the hardest. Sitting up, Montparnasse yelled over the din;

"Go on, Magic Mike – read us your other card!"

By this point, Joly had gone bright scarlet, but he still unfolded his trait card all the same.

"I'm…"

As the laughter died down, everyone gradually gave him their attention once more, though the sudden smug look on his face piqued their interest twice as fast.

"Well…?"

"I'm a stripper, with a PhD in sustainable development."

This time the cheers weren't so much at his expense, and he couldn't help but feel both bewildered and amused at his new set of cards. Clapping him on the back, Bossuet got up next and took two new cards for himself. While he'd liked being an illustrator with an eidetic memory, it hadn't served him very well in the face of an apocalypse.

"I'm a…midwife, who also…is a popular blogger online."

"We'll need someone who can deliver babies, or at the very least, we'll need a medical professional. You've got my vote." Grantaire called out, giving his friend a grin in support.

"Are we voting now..?"

"Not yet." The teacher replied, motioning for the next person to come up. Musichetta chose two cards as well, unfolding them both simultaneously and reading them out with clear cut confidence.

"I'm a police officer, who also moonlights as a champion poker player."

Only four other students went up after that;

Opening her new trait, Eponine wasn't so enthused. "I'm a neurosurgeon who is also a political activist."

"Okay, I'm now a teacher, and I'm a brilliant cook." He didn't know if it'd get him votes, but Montparnasse still seemed pretty happy with himself as he was replaced at the front by his friend.

"I'm a builder, with a degree in plumbing."

The general agreement that he'd be voted in next gave Claquesous an odd sense of accomplishment, though it was likely he wouldn't hear the end of it from the other two. Muttering something to him as they passed each other, Babet smirked as he earned himself a whack to the arm, grabbing out two new cards and unfolding them both untidily and impatiently.

"Alright, I'm a…carpenter! That's useful as fuck and you're all voting me in, and I'm also…autistic. Wonderful."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with that." Bahorel chimed, his tone light and agreeable, and yet was delivered in a way that urged the other student not to say anything else on the matter. Waiting until the front space was his, he reached for another trait, giving everyone a 'wait for it' sort of look before reading his new card.

"Well, the good news is I don't have chlamydia anymore."

"What do you have now?"

"Parkinson's disease." With a resigned shrug, he took the news well, sinking back into his seat and looking at Jehan expectantly a moment later. In fact, most of them seemed to be. Looking around in turn, the freckled poet smiled a little in confusion.

"What..?"

"Aren't you going up to change cards?"

"Oh, no. No, I'm good."

"You're a gay poet. No offence Prouvaire, but do you really like dying that much?" Asked Montparnasse, meeting the redhead's look of disdain with a wickedly handsome smile. "Go on, change cards – I wouldn't mind going a round with you in the bunker."

"Okay, not only does that sound unimaginably creepy, but also…no. If this was the end of the world, we wouldn't get a second chance. We'd be stuck with whatever jobs we'll have in the future, and if this was real…I'd be dead anyway. Unless the people in my bunker valued my knowledge of languages enough to vote me in, I'd want to spend the last few hours of my life being myself instead of desperately wishing I was anything else just so I could live a little longer."

"…God you must be fun at parties."

Before Jehan could retort, the teacher stepped in, raising his voice just a little – just enough to bring everyone's attention back to him as he went to his desk.

"That's a debate for another day, I'm sure. But for this next round, I'm stepping things up a little."

Bringing a medium sized brown bag with him, he shook it absently as he spoke.

"In this bag are thirty ping pong balls, all painted either yellow or black. You're all going to reach in and take one at random, and then you're going to start the next round of votes."

"What do the colours mean?" Combeferre asked as he took his out, turning the black ball in his hands.

"I'll let you know that once you've finished voting." The teacher answered simply, giving the young man a knowing smirk as he made his way around the room. Once everyone had a ball, as planned the voting commenced.

Despite his criminal record, Grantaire was voted in due to him being the only one with a knowledge of farming. With his yellow ball in hand, he saluted to the class before making his way into the bunker. Enjolras followed soon after, along with Bossuet, Musichetta, Montparnasse, Clauquesous, Feuilly, and Babet.

While they talked amongst themselves as the teacher returned the bag to the drawer in his desk, Jehan got to his feet and followed after him.

"Sir? I think I need to draw a new one."

"Why?"

"My ball hasn't been painted, I got the odd one."

"Ah…Hold onto that for a minute. You've just made this rather interesting."

Returning to the group, Jehan sank into his seat, now looking more and more intrigued at what the ping pong balls might mean, and how he'd somehow made things more complicated. Quietening everyone down, the group listened as he set the scene.

"Its origin is unknown, but all we know is that it's claimed millions of lives worldwide. It has spread to every continent, every country, and now, only few months on from the original outbreak, humankind is facing an apocalypse they thought was only possible in your generic comic book or TV show."

One or two of the whole group cottoned on to what he was saying at first, but soon it sunk in and reached the rest of them.

"Outbreak..?" Joly asked, the very idea striking a particular chord of discomfort in him. With a solemn nod, the teacher clarified.

"Ladies, gentlemen…welcome to a viral pandemic unlike anything man's history has ever seen."

The general response was one of anticipation; while it was an overused cliché in disaster movies, it was one that everyone had been wondering about. They'd had natural disasters, nuclear fallout, and now a viral outbreak. This was definitely going to be an interesting round.

"Wait, wait – so what are these for?" Asked Bossuet, holding out his black ball between his fingertips.

"Ah, yes. Everyone in the bunker, if you have a black ball, please step to the right. Yellow people, step to the left."

As it turned out, only Grantaire and Claquesous had picked out yellow balls – the rest of their group all had black.

"Do we get some kind of prize?" Grantaire asked, throwing his into the air with a smirk.

"That depends on your definition of a 'prize'." The teacher replied airily. "Both you and Claquesous are lucky enough to possibly be infected with the virus."

That wiped the excited looks right off all of their faces, with Grantaire and Enjolras exchanging a look between them before the both turned back to the teacher, who was now motioning for Jehan to stand up.

"You've all voted in who you want. But, now you all have a decision to make. Jehan, what colour is yours?"

"White."

Addressing the bunker once more, the teacher slowly cast his gaze to each individual student.

"The gay poet may not have any traits you wanted to preserve before, but how much is he worth if I told you that he's one of the only people on Earth who carry the antibodies?"