Enjolras is early to the meeting at the Café Musain the next night, although he looks considerably more pallid than usual. When Courfeyrac comes in, he stands, says, "Courfeyrac, please, I must speak with you," and half-drags him to a corner table.

Courfeyrac blinks as he drops into a chair. "What?"

"I -- do you remember your foolish idea, still?" Enjolras glances at the others to be sure they are not paying too much attention.

"Yes, of course." Courfeyrac frowns a little.

"God, it's horrible." Enjolras crosses his arms.

"What? What is? What's happened?"

"I think I may have a chance at carrying this out." He stares at the table. "And how I wish I did not."

After a moment, Courfeyrac reaches out to lay a hand on his shoulder. "How d'you mean?"

Enjolras gives him a haunted look. "How do you think I mean?"

Courfeyrac studies him a moment. "Shall we go somewhere else?" quietly.

"That would be -- yes. please."

Courfeyrac raises his voice slightly. "In fact, here, come along and I'll show you." He steers Enjolras toward the door.

"Thank you," Enjolras says softly.

"Of course." Once they are in the street, Courfeyrac glances at him questioningly.

Enjolras blushes. "I don't know how to explain this without sounding like a madman."

"I already know you're a madman," cheerfully.

"Do you, really?"

Courfeyrac shakes his head. "Mon ami, this whole plan is dangerously foolish. How bad can it be?"

Enjolras glances at him. "What plan is that precisely?"

Courfeyrac pauses, peering. "I thought we were talking about--"

"Explain it to me again."

Courfeyrac stares at him. "You befriend monsieur, you persuade him gently to reason--"

"Ah." Enjolras looks away. "I see."

"Ariel, what is it?"

"I think I've been too persuasive."

"What on earth do you mean?" Courfeyrac sits down on the foot of the stairs, reaching up to tug at Enjolras' hand.

Enjolras sits beside him, looking at the ground, with one hand over his mouth. If anything, he has grown paler in the last several minutes. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse and extremely quiet. "Either I had a horrible nightmare last night or he's going to be at my door tomorrow night expecting me to -- to kiss him again."

There is a long silence. "Oh."

Enjolras stands and walks a little way, then turns and paces back. "It seemed to be persuasive," he says defensively.

Courfeyrac bites his lip. "I'd imagine so."

"I've never felt so dirty in my life." Enjolras shivers.

"I'm sorry," quietly.

"And yet it seems to be working," walking in the other direction.

Courfeyrac nods, quietly.

"I never meant to --" He gives Courfeyrac a frightened look.

"I'm sure not," and, more cautiously, "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do it." Enjolras sits again and crosses his arms.

"I contributed. Ariel-- are you all right?"

"No."

Courfeyrac hesitates, then offers an arm.

Enjolras frowns at the ground. "Are you sure --"

"Of what, mon ami?"

Enjolras embraces him. "I don't know what I'm doing and I hate myself."

Courfeyrac enfolds him in a hard, comforting hug. "You shouldn't. If it's necessary..."

"I don't know if it's necessary. Even if it is, I, oh God, I've --"

"Shhhh, easy, easy..."

"I can't believe I'm going through with this." Enjolras shudders.

"Is it so bad?" Courfeyrac asks, in the awkward tone of a man who is leaving himself wide open to derision.

Enjolras glares at him. "I don't know. Why don't you try whoring yourself in the name of ideals and tell me how you feel in the morning?"

Courfeyrac winces. "I'm sorry."

Enjolras puts his head in his hands. "I exaggerate. Slightly."

"I'm sorry. What can I say?" Courfeyrac runs a hand through his hair. "If-- you could always develop an ailing grandmother and disappear for a while."

"And when I came back? No. I can't lie, not if I ever want him to listen to me, and that is the point, that is the price." Enjolras shivers. "I don't know if it's worth it."

"He wouldn't care that much, surely. I could make your excuses, if it came to it... I'm sorry."

"I can't." Enjolras looks up. There are dark circles under his eyes. "It would waste the sacrifices I've already made."

Courfeyrac is silent, watching him worriedly.

Enjolras blushes. "And I still have no idea what I'm doing."

Courfeyrac looks at the pavement. "Does he?"

"I don't know. How would I know?"

"I only meant-- it might not matter."

"Oh, that would be seductive," sardonically.

"You never know." Courfeyrac glances away, then back at him rather timidly.

"I'm sure someone in his position has all sorts of people clamoring for attention." Enjolras covers his eyes again.

Courfeyrac rests a hand on his shoulder silently.

"I am disgusting."

"No," suddenly vehement. "Good God, Ariel, don't even think that."

Enjolras looks up swiftly. "It's true."

"It's not." Courfeyrac meets his gaze, frowning. "You're in a difficult -- damned difficult situation."

"I put myself into that situation of my own free will, which means that any wrongdoing I commit is entirely my own and cannot be attributed to the influence of anyone else." Enjolras frowns back. "I chose this, and now that I see I have chosen poorly it is too late."

"How could you know he would--"

"He didn't -- not first." Enjolras blushes.

Courfeyrac blinks. "No?"

"I'm going to stop talking about this now," Enjolras announces and stands up, brushing himself off. "Thank you."

"Ariel--"

"It doesn't help to tell you and it's none of your business."

Courfeyrac is silent, looking at the cobblestones.

"If I am to have a sickly grandmother, it would be best if you told our friends about her." Enjolras gives him a courtly nod. "I will talk to you soon."

"Good night, then," quietly.

"I'm sorry." He falters on the point of striding away.

"So am I. Oh, so am I." Courfeyrac glances up at him intently. "If you need me-- for anything,--"

Enjolras blushes and looks at the pavement. "I can't imagine what."

"You'll tell me?"

"Yes. I will. Thank you." He nods again and starts for home.

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