This man, too, looks familiar to Enjolras. Perhaps he saw him when he arrived, but the of unaccustomed alcohol and then the sadly necessary laudanum has turned most of that day into a haze. (The laudanum, thankfully, is now set somewhere safe; as Enjolras did not quite like how it made him feel, nor did he trust himself, really, to dose himself properly without Combeferre's advice.)

"I am Enjolras," he replies, with a brief, courteous smile. "And I am ...new, I suppose."