"Not yet," he replied as he picked up his coffee, taking a sip. "I would like to see just what has changed. Caroline brought back a painting for me, when she went at Christmas. It was all very different." He had recognised the streets, but the buildings had been different.
"I lived not far from the Corinthe, which was a bar we used to frequent, in the Rue De La Chanvrerie. The painting was of the street where it was. But it was not there any more. Which was very strange."
His fingers absently tapped out a rhythm on the table as she spoke. "You have to do that all the time? You must care about her a great deal." He knew it wasn't all that different to just what he would, had, done for Enjolras. He didn't believe in his friends causes and yet he had stood beside him at the end.
"Enjolras keeps putting all sorts of strange flavoured things in his coffee. At Christmas it was cinammon, I think. I was not a fan."