"Don't you know what year it is?" Gavroche's confusion deepened, a frown on his face. Now, he lacked education of any formal sort, everything he knew he had learned from Enjolras, but even he could tell the date. "It's 1832, mister. Even I know that one."
Part of him was tempted to run, but run where? He had no idea where this 'Kansas' was, where to go, how to find where his friends were. So, for now, at least, he would stay with this Kol guy and hopefully get something to eat.
"Alright then," he nodded at the idea of food, a growl from his stomach emphasizing his point. "I don't need nothing fancy, just some bread would be good. Or some beef, if you got it, I aint had beef in ages, you got any apples around here?" His mind was already racing, thinking of all the food he hadn't had in a while. Bloody posh people, the rich being wasteful with their food while the likes of him starved in the streets. "Though don't you try nothing weird on me, okay? I may be little but don't go counting me out, I can run fast when I want and slipped away from more than a few police in my time."