The Night That Ends At Last *Les Miserables Romance (Enjolras)*

Chapter 13: Little People

 Chapter 13: Little People

I tell 'em there's a lot to learn,

Down here on the ground!

The world is big,

But little people turn it around!

~~**~~

“Isn’t it amusing?”

“What?” Joleigh looked at Grantaire as if he was mad. The drunk was just smirking foolishly.

“You know-“ He waved his hand around at the men who had started to file out of the café and back to the barricade. “All this!”

“You know well enough I don’t find it amusing.” Joleigh sighed and checked the bruise that was forming on the side of his face due to Enjolras’ little outburst. Grantaire flinched when she touched it.

“It’s a stupid thing to say ‘Taire.” Gavroche added whilst glaring, trying to bigger himself up as much as he could. Grantaire’s eyes enlightened with amusement before shoving the child playfully.

“Just my opinion, little man.”

“Oi! Don’t call me that!”

“It’s true!”

“Whatever.” Gavroche huffed, pushing himself off the bar-table he was sitting on. “I’m off.”

“Where exactly?” Joleigh raised an eyebrow. Gavroche grinned and spun on his heels.

“Jus’ outside, madam.” Before she could say anything else he ran out the door. Grantaire rolled his eyes and reached for an absinthe bottle behind the abandoned bar. He was greeted with a slap on his hand.

“What?” The man laughed at Joleigh’s disapproving look. “Oh, stop it Joleigh. You know I need it.”

“Really? Do you really need more alcohol?” She jested, taking his still extended hand and putting it back on his lap.

“You know I do.” Grantaire sighed touching the bruise on his cheek. Joleigh immediately took his hand and he looked at her with a sadness she had never seen before. “It’s the worst he’s ever done.” He whispered, ducking his head so his black curls fell in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Joleigh gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“You didn’t do it.”

“I’m saying it for him.”

“But it’s not him saying it, is it?” Grantaire choked down what seemed to be a laugh or a sob as he hopped off the bar-stool.

“Grantaire-“ Joleigh tried to grasp his shoulder but he shrugged her off.

“If you won’t let me have the wine, I’ll go to the wine myself!” He chortled, looking at her with eyes that did not match his happy act.

“And how are you going to do that?” Joleigh asked.

“Yes – how are you going to do that?” Courfeyrac appeared, leaning on the bar with a rifle on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna burrow into the wine alcove and never come out.” Grantaire sniffed, raising his head high in mocking to the ‘rich’. “I will doze between Merlot ‘89 and Pinot Noire ’73.”

“Sure you will, my friend, sure.” Courfeyrac snorted, shaking his head. “Maybe while you’re up there find some sense?”

“Oh, of course Courfeyrac.” Grantaire simpered mischievously and with a last glance at Joleigh, made for the stairs. Joleigh hit Courfeyrac lightly on the arm when he was gone.