Laertes flops down beside him, grinning. His cheeks are flushed with the run, but he feels impossibly good; the scent of clover is all around him, and the sky is powdered with fine, high clouds. "At times we forget--we're panting, sweating creatures, as much appetite as angel. We need more than purpose to sustain us. We need good food, employment for our hands, and the company of others." He tilts his head to turn his smile on Enjolras. "I enjoy thy company very much, sir."