For @godlingcaptainchristina. Canon-era, developing ExR. Of sorts.
“Go with solidarity, my brothers, and soon we will see all of Paris roused to our Cause and rallied to our Call!”
Enjolras’s words were met with a round of cheers, bringing the meeting to a close. Enjolras shared a smile with his closest lieutenants before sitting for the first time in over an hour. His break would be only temporary; time was a luxury only the bourgeois could afford and more preparation was needed. But even as Enjolras gratefully accepted a cup from Combeferre and took a sip, he scanned the room, something amiss even with his mind otherwise occupied.
It took him a long moment to realize that there was no glaring error present; rather, what struck him as wrong was the absence of a constant: Grantaire, the libertine and resident cynic who nonetheless was as consistent a presence as darkness to the night. It took him a moment longer to scan his memories and realize that he had not seen Grantaire some four meetings hence, an oddity that he felt remorse at not realizing earlier. “Where is Grantaire?” he asked Combeferre in an undertone, hoping not to draw attention to the question.
Combeferre shook his head, not looking up from the pamphlets spread in front of him. “He has not been here a few weeks, I don’t think,” he said, confirming Enjolras’s realization. “Surely you noticed? There is a reason our meetings have gone undisturbed of late by the fumes of wine and rants of nonbelievers.”