“Over more than...this is gonna sound...” Bahorel pauses. “Lets say I’m aware how mad it might sound, but we’re on our second go around. We knew each other in Paris, almost two hundred years ago, and some of our people from then found their ways here, but at different timelines and stages than ours.”
And that’s kind of a weird explanation, but he’s willing to keep it going. “Ferre and I are reincarnations, Québécois, instead of French, and our friends at home too. Here though, we’ve also got one directly from that life instead of the version we got around McGill, but it’s him, all the same, and two came back much younger, but Enjolras, he remembers it all. And he terrifies me, knowing what he’s capable of being for another time, but he’s got an outlet here, now. The assassins are good for that.”
Combeferre’s sane, though, and Bahorel appreciates that. “It’s good to be on the same page as Combeferre, and I swear the man’s a walking font of random knowledge. Which more than often helps, a lot.”