R should probably stop. He knew that, he really did, but it was just so easy to give in, and it was getting harder and harder to resist. Especially when, once again, Enjolras was drunk and soft beneath his hands. He pressed another kiss to the hinge of his jaw and pulled back. "You don't know what you do to me," he murmured.
His melancholy was pushed away and he grinned down at E. "Both are apt descriptions. Now if you'll excuse me, I must feed." He leaned in and latched onto the other side of Enjolras' neck, making exaggerated chewing noises.
R caught the bottle easily and unscrewed the cap, taking a long drink before settling it by Enjolras' head. He grinned at the suggestion. "Leaving only me with one? My love I already tear through them too easily, that would hardly be fair. And if we intend to hit them in their 'infantile sport', as you say, I do believe that honor belongs to baseball, not Quidditch. Frankly I think the addition of baguettes could only improve it."