Lucien Enjolras

It's been a strange two days for him. From Paris to the mansion in the blink of an eye, and he keeps looking for distractions so he doesn't need to think about the friends he left dead on the ground back home. "Indeed," with that same wry twist of his lips again, and he raises his own glass to Laertes. "Perhaps they might. I do not know what became of all of them, after all."