George had tried to stay out of it. He had developed a sort of agony aunt role aboard this odd ship - between those sailor boys, for one, and some others. He had done similarly with some of his acquaintances at home, as well. It wasn't that he was any wiser, really, only that he did not see why relationships needed to be as complicated as people made them.
He fully intended to leave the French men alone, though. It wasn't any of his business and they had both realised after their one night together it wouldn't be productive. And yet Grantaire was in the bar - always, it seemed, and he looked so miserable he had to do something. If only because looking at Grantaire reminded him of his own situation.
So after several days, he sought out Enjolras. He eventually found him in the library, and approached him cautiously as if he were afraid he might bite.
"Monsieur Enjolras," he said quietly. "I wondered if I might have a word."