Down Once More (Courf)

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Courfeyrac laughed heartily at her comment, unable to keep a straight face for more than a moment even at her feigned solemnity. Of all the jades he could have chosen to get trapped inside a dark nook with, Mylene was undoubtedly the most pleasant, and not only for the reasons one might think from the way they were currently positioned. A crooked grin manifesting itself on his face as she winked, he replied with a raised eyebrow, “Is tha' so? Ah've been told Ah am a good teacher.” He was responding in the same teasing tone, and did not immediately feel guilty for reminding her of the fact that he had been with other women besides her, but... he was also just talking about how he had taught some of his friends German and English. “Ah could teach ye other things too, ye know.”

In fact, he already had, but there was always more. He didn't know how useful it would be, however, especially at a time like this. He supposed the only thing they could do was take what they could get today, because they didn't know what tomorrow held. Equality, he hoped. When they had equality, then everyone could learn any language, or could learn anything they wanted; education wouldn't be limited to the idle rich. That was what he hoped. What was education good for if it couldn't be shared, anyway? If it couldn't help others? He wasn't the only one of les Amis de l'ABC whose studies were made less in the classroom than on the streets. He learned more there. And when it came down to it, the whole purpose of thinking was just to find fulfillment, was it not? He thought most philosophers were far too high-minded; they could be satisfied with the abstract and ignore the physical. Well, starving people could not do so. Nor could he.

That was why he was here with Mylene, after all. It was why they had been on the streets in the first place, and why they were not even a breath away from each other: Courfeyrac could not just be satisfied with thought, but needed a life with sensory experience. Granted, not all of Mylene's touches were pleasant, but he just chuckled good-naturedly as she prodded his chest, catching her hand in his. “Ah know a lot of things,” he replied sagely. “And Ah know that ye'd like to make me burst.” He guided the hand he was holding to his shoulder, then settled his hands on her hips once more. Smiling, he replied, “Oh, Ah get to choose Paradise, do Ah? Well. Ah'm already here with you.” He could be quite charming, when he tried. Still smiling, he bent his head to kiss her once more.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

Courfeyrac’s laughter was echoed slightly from the stone walls around him, a joyous, almost beautiful sound that probably wasn’t heard in the catacombes often, as they were not exactly a place of joy. But it somehow still didn’t feel out of place, it just made her laugh as well, savouring the fact that her teasing had hit home so succesfully. Feeling herself almost blush – now where did THAT come from?! – at his crooked smile, she fought the urge to cast down her eyes to mask the thoughts that manifested themselves in her mind at his barely concealed promise. “An ye shed know by now tha’ when I think sumthin’s worth it, I can be a good student…” she murmured, referring as much to their reading and writing lessons as to the… other things he could show her, innocent or not. Of course she knew that he had had more than his fair share of ‘students’, but Mylène wasn’t so delusional as to think she had any true claim on him. She would not be overly territorial… even though her indifference still would have to be tested should she ever see him kissing another now. “I’m quite open to expanding our study time”, she commented, even half-serious. “What d’ye think ye can teach me more, after readin’ and writin’… though I need more practice in those as well.”

Needless to say that any more time spent with Courf would be fun, however they’d spend it, even though they had certainly expanded their possibilities now, crossing over that one bridge. But she also knew him well enough to know he would always put their cause first, and she did not mind that. Before the great change made everyone equal and therefore would enable her to use all the skills he could teach her, that change still had to COME. And it would not be easy. Every single one of them needed their wits about them… and right now she wasn’t sure how much of her wits she had left. Courfeyrac was nothing if not thoroughly distracting and demanding of her attention without much forcing it.

Trust him to capture her hand like that! He had probably noticed by now that Mylène was not someone to lose her personality completely and melt inside his arms once he confronted her with the full tilt of his passion, she still was able to tease him and oppose him in some aspects, even though her head was basically reeling. But it didn’t look like he minded much, for which she was glad. Nothing was worse than a man denying a woman every ounce of independence, whether in thought or action. Willingly she let herself be pulled even closer – whether physically possible or not – and her eyes were burning when she replied: “Well, there’s no harm in tryin’, is there?” Though of course, him literally bursting might be quite messy and unfortunate, but she trusted him well there. He had probably seen and experienced much when it came to women, she wasn’t so vain to think she’d be able to make him lose control completely… even though that was a nice challeneg of course!

His hands on her hips and his charming words finally did it for Mylène. She was at loss for words. He might be teasing and joking when he said being with her equalled paradise, but for the moment she did not care for truth nor lie. Their kiss started out as sweet but turned more heated and demanding by each passing second, so much even that Mylène found herself losing her balance and to not fall had to put her whole weight on her right foot for a second, which caused her to wince and gasp. Her hands with fingers teasingly hooked into the collar of his shirt, ready to explore the skin of his shoulders if so possible, gripped tight in a short spasm of pain.
“’Scuse-moi”, she whispered. “Bu’… maybe we shed go somewhere wi’ a bit more space…?”
She didn't look forward to the long descending of the stairs, it must be fifty or more, but the faint skirling of a police's pipe suggested that it might still not be safe outside.

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If only made sense that Mylene and Courfeyrac could laugh, even in a moment like this. Though Courfeyrac could be made serious by death and poverty, he laughed at everything he could, even himself – it was the only way to get through some things. “Ah know you are,” he answered sincerely. She had always been eager to learn. He cupped her face lightly, toying with a stray curl. He did not have as much time for her to expand their study time, not now. But perhaps someday he would. Ah can teach you anything you like. Philosophy? History? Mathematics? Anatomy?” This made him smile, naturally. Anatomy was a new and exciting study, but much of it, he already knew from his own experience!

“Certainly not. You know Ah enjoy it.” He grinned rakishly. Whatever he and Mylene did, he enjoyed it. However, this had to be at the top of his list. The kiss deepened, her weight leaning against him in a demand for more, his hand on her back holding her greedily against him. As she gripped his collar, Courfeyrac arched, lips parting further in satisfaction at what he perceived to be her desire for more – before he realized that her gasp was not one of pleasure, but one of pain. “Your ankle,” he acknowledged, exhaling, a bit shakily, and trying to catch his breath. Taking another breath in, he ran a hand through his hair, considering the stairs below them and the door beside them.

“Ah'm sorry, Ah didn't – ...Ah was justifiably distracted,” he apologized sheepishly. He licked his lips then pursed them thoughtfully. Right – he couldn't very easily carry her down the stairs, or expect her to get down them alone, because then they would just have to hobble through the entire catacombs to get out anyway or struggle back up the stairs. To remain by the door might be dangerous, but it was locked, and he was certain that the excitement would die down quickly, as people would not want to linger if shots had been fired. He felt badly for hurting Mylene, but he would make it up to her.

More space, more space... Why would he want more space if it would be space between them? After giving her a moment to recover herself, he softly bent his head to kiss low along her neck, his hands running down her back until he was cupping her legs. It was easy to coax her legs around his waist and make a turn so that her back was pressed against the door. Propped up as she was, he wasn't holding all of her weight – nor was her poor ankle. “'ere,” he murmured, taking a moment to look at her, “this alright?”

He didn't want the moment to require talking, but he did have to look after her, after all. If she would really rather move, then they would; he still would have had this delicious moment to enjoy. There was something about living on the edge that made it all the more enthralling.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

Her hand had found its way up into his hair again, she just loved his wild mane of dark locks, so similar and yet so different to her own. It was one of the things, together with his finely carved features and his smile that made him almost irresistible to a girl’s eyes, and Mylène felt quite satisfied that at least for this moment there and then, she had this all to herself. Biting her lips while smiling, she let him play with her own curls, thinking that to be quite retributive justice. “I’d surely like te know more ‘bout history. It’s fascinatin te know wha’ has happened long since before we were born. Unlike a possible future, it DOES hold significance te the present. Since it made us wha’ we are.” She chuckled when he mentioned Anatomy and let her finger trace from the back of his head, dow the sideline of his jaw and his throat, until she reached the nape of his neck. “Anatomy, eh… shows wha’ lies beneath. I like…”

Was he as far gone right now as she was? It almost seemed that way by the way Courfeyrac tensed his muscles as he witnessed her reaction. Who was in control here? Was there even any control needed? Mylène frankly didn’t care, she was even angry at her own weakness showing that killed the passion momentarily between them. Stupid, stupid ankle!! But then, if she had not twisted her ankle and they would have been able to make their way down the stairs with ease long ago, who knows what might have happened instead… if anything at all. Without her ankle being twisted they would probably not be here right now, kissing their lips raw, so she couldn’t very well complain. It might have happened sometimes later, but Mylène did not care any more about what ifs than she cared about tomorrows. She took a deep breath of her own, both to regain at least part of her wits and to fight down the pain. It was getting lesser and lesser already, it just had been a quick upflaming she had not been prepared for.

“Shh… it’s fine!” she assured him, chuckling almost against her will at his sheepish face. It almost made him look adorable, like a little schoolboy. Though she just had seen he was anything but. “I’ve had worse, I’ll manage. Dun…” Don’t… what? A part of her had wanted to say ‘don’t worry’, but the most prominent part of hers had wanted to burst out ‘don’t stop!’ Since both somehow didn’t sound right in her head, she had broken off.
Apparently he had a plan… She felt his hands move and gasped again as he took hold of her legs. This time it was not a gasp of pain as she quickly showed him by eagerly following suit with what he tried to do, wrapping her legs around his waist. As she was wearing a skirt, of course the fabric of it rucked up, but she did not care. New waves of overwhelming sensations washed over her and the only way she seemed to be able to relieve them was by kissing him deeply. “Tha’ ‘nough o’ an answer?” she asked breathlessly.

A part of Mylène was also hesitating, a pang of unease flashing up inside her the moment her back collided with the door. The shrill voice of a street wench echoed in her ear, calling out: ‘Quick an’ cheap up agains’ the wall’. But that was rubbish, right? Courfeyrac would not see her as that. He was her friend! She pushed the thought aside and wrapped her arms around his neck, her hand finding a way to slip underneath his collar down his bare muscular back.

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Courfeyrac's dark eyes searched Mylene's as she toyed with his curls. “Tha's what Ah think,” he agreed quietly. “Ev'ryone has a role to play – past... present... future.” He was finding it difficult to have a deeply philosophical conversation at the moment with the way her fingertips were tracing down his jaw, so instead of speaking, he just swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing under her touch. Her own sentence trailed off, and he supposed now was one of those times that speech was unnecessary.

Well, now he felt the fool for asking! But at least if nothing else, she knew that he cared. On some level, this was just another search for satisfaction, but this wasn't just some girl that Courfeyrac flirted with for a few hours, spent the night with, and parted amicably. This was Mylene, who he had known for what seemed like ages, his friend. He knew many girls in this city, but if he thought about it, he knew her the best – and he was about to get to know her even better.

Not just because of her ankle; though he wanted to take care of her too, in every way that he knew how. He wanted to hear her stories of injuries, how she had gotten each twisted ankle and scuffed palm; he wanted to learn her anatomy and map her body with his kisses. He wanted more from her. More than just this hurried hour. But he couldn't express that now, so for now, it was what he would take. He knew she wouldn't ask for anything else.

She was obviously enjoying this just as much as he was. He was gratified by this gasp as he picked her up once more. Her approval was sealed by the searing kiss she gave him. He kissed her hungrily, a noise of approval uttered against her lips as she ran her hand down his heated shoulder blades. In response to her question, Courfeyrac just grinned breathlessly up at her before kissing her again. These feelings weren't foreign to him, it was true, but they were new with Mylene, and they were worthy of indulging. So he indulged them fully.

Everything was a pleasant blur until they found themselves seated on the step, Mylene leaning against the door, with Courf's head pillowed upon her breast. Christian stroked her knee, somewhat distractedly, as he considered the time it might take to get to the Amis' meeting place if certain streets were blocked. Shifting slightly, he had to lick his lips before he could speak. “Mylene?” he murmured, meeting her gaze. He paused, and smiled faintly at the sight of her, giving his head a slight shake. “Mon Dieu, you're beautiful.” He cupped her chin in his hand and gave her a chaste kiss before pulling away, his expression sobered. “Ah think... Ah need to go.”

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

Everyone has a role to play... for an idle second Mylène couldn’t help but wonder what Courf’s and her role were right now, or in general. Right now… that was easily and quickly answered, the general part might need some more consideration – but that could all come later. Now was not the time for philosophy, certainly not. After the last spark of unease had been quenched in her, she finally let go, allowing herself to open up completely for once, giving her all, giving her everything. It made her vulnerable like never before, but she at least knew one thing: While Christian Courfeyrac might not want to claim her heart, he at least would not crush it either. It was a peculiar mixture, but one she probably would appreciate later, once she had time enough to think about it: Safety and ultimate freedom in one.

They found themselves sinking down to the steps after some indefinite period had passed. Slowly Mylène’s heartbeat was slowing down to a normal pace and the searing fire died down to a mild, pleasant burning that warmed her inside and made her limbs heavy with some kind of complacent exhaustion. If it was only for her body, she would not care to move at all for at least an hour, feeling like a saturated, lazy cat. Somehow, she had not imagined this to be like… that. She had not anticipated the comforting feeling of… how should she call it… amiable community they still seemed to share. A new kind of intimacy and familiarity had entered between them now, at least for this moment as he was stroking her knee and she was playing with the curls of his hair.

But like it was with every spell, one time it had to be broken, and even at the moment she heard her name being spoken she knew what he was going to say, eventually. What he said instead, however, she had not expected at all, and she found the chuckle that escaped her lips to be tinted with surprise and a little unusual bashfulness, as she turned her head to the side and cast her eyes down in a feeble attempt to hide her perplexity. “Coaxer…” she murmured. “’S tha’ ‘nother word for messy, per’aps?” For she must look quite disshevelled now, with her hair slipping out of the half-up-half-down hairdo she had created for the May Event and her blouse and corslet loosened. And since she did not call a mirror her own to prove herself right or wrong, she had never really cared much whether she was plain or not. That only would get you any bread or money in a certain route she gladly never had had to take.

She smiled against his lips but let him go without a complaint as he pulled away, nodding with a slight sigh. “’Course, the meetin’. Can’t keep the lads waitin’ on their Prometheus. And you’ll miss Enjolras’ flamin’ speech.” Pushing her hands against the door, she tried to scramble to her feet. “Where are ye meetin’ up? Yer new headquarter or the café?” Secretly and selfishly, she found herself hoping it would be the café, since then they wouldn’t have to part quite so soon at the next crossroad.

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Truthfully? Courfeyrac hadn't expected what had come out of his mouth, either. It was just an observation, one that came from looking at her and realizing it. She was beautiful. Not in the way that nobility might think – pale and a bit plump – but in a way that was fierce and honest and unforgiving. She was there, and how could he not notice it? Her appearance was softened somewhat by the flush in her cheeks and the loose hair and rumpled dress. Messy and beautiful weren't synonymous, but she was somehow both.

In all fairness, there wasn't a whole lot he could coax out of her now that he hadn't already gotten; his words were sincere, not flattery or bribing. With him, compliments could come a dime-a-dozen; it wasn't that he practiced them or anything, but they came to him easily, especially when he was talking to a handsome mademoiselle. Mylene must knew that – and yet she should also know that at this moment, with her, Courfeyrac was being honest. “Oh, hush,” he chided lightly, nudging her shoulder with his own fondly. “Don' be fishin' fer compliments now.”

After he withdrew his lips from hers, his eyes searched hers, then a smile tugged at his lips. “Ah knew ye'd understand.” He licked his lips and got to his feet, offering her a hand, his glance darting to her ankle. “We, ehm... Ah think we'll be goin' someplace secret,” he replied with a wink – which meant that it would be the second thing. Now that they were both standing, he kept his grip on her hand – and he had a feeling that he would keep it there for a few moments more, unless she pulled it away. He would walk her at least part of the way. Just in case the streets were still a bit crowded, after all.

It had been some time though. Not too much, he didn't think; he should be on time to the meeting. He would make sure of that. He pressed his ear to the door, then peeked out, and saw that the way was clear. “C'mon, quick,” he murmured. “Yer ankle'll be alright, ye think?”

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

Mylène wasn’t fishing for compliments, and he knew that probably as well as she knew he might just have been honest. But these were dangerous things to say, dangerous even more in the fragile balance they had first to establish after what had happened. It was easier between them than she had thought, since they always had liked to tease each other, but they could not deny either that something HAD happened, that they had taken another step, whether forward or not. Returning to their teasing stage was safer that way, if they just pretended no one was honest, while knowing they might be.
When he nudged her shoulders, she gave a silent laugh and nudged him back. “No much need for fishin’ with ye ‘round anyway. ‘S not like ye’d make the search difficult.” He was a flatterer alright, but that was not necessarily a bad thing. He had a way with words, maybe not as rousing as Enjolras, but in his own way he was as masterly as the Amis’ leader. Enjolras was the one drawing people in, making them listen… Courfeyrac, at least in Mylène’s eyes, was the one that had forged the brotherhood they seemed to have become.

And as such, he was as vital to their cause as any of the ‘triumvirate’, as she had overheard them be called jokingly. He had to go. Of course she would understand that, she knew after all what was at stake. Maybe it was the fact that Courfeyrac had been her friend and a member of Les Amis de L’ABC long before he had become an object of her teasing flirting, and now her desire. And as such, she also quenched the upflaming annoyance at them meeting at their new headquarter, it was the logical conclusion after all. “No need te make it all te easy on ‘em”, she nodded with a smirk. “Somun could’ve heard yer names bein’ called at the parade. I’d know of somun who’d not hesitate te rat ye out.” She was, of course, thinking of Louis Thénardier, who had made it all too clear to her what he thought of those ‘schoolboys’ when they last had crossed paths. They could endanger his reign of protection money and fear. If the people of Paris rose, the lowest might also rise against him.

Only after a few seconds it occurred to her that Courf was still holding her hand after he had helped her up. It felt… peculiar, but not necessarily bad. Mylène was and probably would never be the handholding sweet girl type, but at the moment, she also saw no real reason as to why she should retract her hand. To test the state of her ankle, she tried to put more weight on it. It hurt, but it was now more of a dull ache than a piercing strike of pain. Good. “It’ll die down soon now”, she claimed. “The more I walk, the less it’ll hurt.” They stepped through the door, but the moment Mylène turned to close the door and lock it, she saw something lie on the first step and bent to pick it up with her free hand. It was the rose blossom she had bought on the market this morning and had put into her hair. It must have fallen off, while… well, during their lovemaking. Undecided, she held it in her hand for a moment, then turned to Courf with a mischievous smile and tucked it into his breast pocket.

“The rose shows its wisdoms, from love lost on youth
Protector of passions and soldier of truth.”
She cited from a play,”The Lily and the Rose” she had once taken part in while still with the jugglers. It had been a sort of lullaby from a mother concerned of her son one day taking part in the revolution against the Lily, the symbol of French monarchy. The rose had been praised with these words while the lily had been slandered as ‘innocence scorned, on banner of blood, shed for villains adorned.’ It had sprung to her mind the moment she had seen the rose, and somehow the words seemed to fit to Courfeyrac, he surely was a soldier of truth.

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Courfeyrac grinned. "An' ye make it easy to give 'em." She almost always responded in kind whenever he gave a flirtatious remark; it was what had kept the conversation going until this point. It felt that it had finally peaked tonight, that they'd come to some bridge. And now that they had gotten to it, things were... Hmm. Things went on, didn't they? Though he had a way with words, he didn't quite have words for that. What he and Mylene were simply was, just as it had always been; there was no defining it.

There was no time to think on it too much either, and to do anything else than be comfortable with each other and let things come as they would, moment by moment. He did still have a meeting to go, and he was not going to miss it for anything. He smiled weakly when she said not to make it easy on the Guard to find them and apprehend them. He did not think that any of the soldiers knew them by name; to the soldiers, the students and the poor were not people, but members of an irritating mass that had to be beaten down. "No, they won't 'ave it easy, not ever again," he agreed, an edge to his tone. Nor would Louis Thenardier. For him, there would be justice - the people's justice. The fact that his daughter hung around the Amis wouldn't win him any favors. But for now, they had other, bigger battles to fight - against people who were more important.

A smile tugged again at one corner of Courf's mouth as she quoted. Sometimes the things that came out of Mylene's mouth amazed him. There were lots of things she said and did that amazed him, besides what had just happened. "Tha's good," he acknowledged with a nod of approval, rubbing his clean-shaven chin with the thumb of his free hand. "Though Ah don' think love's lost on youth. Do you?" He glanced towards her thoughtfully; it was an honest question, not just an attempt at flirtation. "As for passions - Ah'm in all in favor of 'em." This produced a wink, and he brought her hand to his lips to brush a lingering kiss across her knuckles before he released her hand. Now that he could see she could walk on her own alright, she probably did not need his support.

He patted his pocket, deciding to keep the rose blossom there. Perhaps it could be pinned someplace later. He didn't want to embarrass her by thinking him overly sentimental, but it was a token, her flower. "An' ye know what the Bard says about roses." Not just about being a rose by any other name. He wouldn't quote exactly, but it went somethin' along the lines of: "A rose is much 'appier growin' with someone else in good soil than it would be alone." This was offered before he turned to look at the street before them.

The rue was unusually and eerily empty. The other parade-goers must have recognized the danger and cleared out. Courfeyrac kept his head down, his eyes moving. There were only shadows of people in the dark mist. He moved swiftly, not drawing attention to themselves, until they were at the street corner when it was time to part. Turning to Mylene again, he murmured, "Ye be careful. Stay off the streets once ye get there."

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

Mylène just smiled at this anewed compliment, deciding to have him have the last say for once. After all, what was there to say? Any more protest from her side WOULD probably be fishing for compliments, and that was unnecessary. She loved their teasing banter, but sometimes a topic was just through, they would easily find another one. And anyway, in former times she might have teased him about this probably being his standard phrase to every girl, but it felt like there were already some things she did not dare say with the same innocence as before. He had asked her not to fall in love with him, and comparing herself to other girls, wanting to be more than them even teasingly, reeked dangerously of jealousy to an attentive or bias ear. And jealousy, everyone knew that, was the first testimony of love. Attraction alone was never jealous. She wanted to spare them both even the idea of it.

She realized the hard edge in his voice, and could not discern it for a moment. But then, apparently reality was catching up with them now. She hadn’t thought much of the consequences of this night, being too occupied with… matters at hand, first getting Courf to safety and then… but surely the harsh outcome of this parade would change the plans of the Amis to some extent. They had never wanted violence, Courf herself hadtold her that when showing her how to hold a gun, but now they were not the aggressors. But hatred was never a good counsel, on neither side. And it made the plan she had brewing with Eponine all the more urgent. They had to do this now, in the following days,or it might be too late. The sheer idea made her shudder, but she forced it down. Everything would be alright, it just had to be. Death could not be the end of this, it would make everything so horribly futile. “They’ll soon see what comes off their violence. The people will rise. They have to.”

Mylène had never agreed with love being lost on youth, but she was guessing where the woman whose role sung this came from. She might be talking about different kinds of love, the quick, upflaming one the youth knew but that one would wither. Only the deeper, less passionate maybe but more consistent love would withstand. Psh… that was easily said by those who had never known true passion! “I’d safely say love is never lost on anyone”, she pointed out with a wink which turned into a chuckle as he kissed her knuckles, bringing back memories of the past hour. “Only in youth ye can appreciate things to the fullest… until life catches up with ye. An I think I know now jus’ how much ye favour passion…!”

She had a rough idea of who he meant with ‘The Bard’, though she had never had the leisure to get involved with any of his works for real. Pépier had sometimes spoken of him and ‘Les Rois Du Monde’, his carney group, sometimes did easier renditions of his plays, but their takes had been vague at best. So she did not know what exactly he might be referring to, but it sounded solemn… serious even. Since he did not look her way, she could not search his gaze and read there what she might want to know about the meaning. She had to rely on guesswork, and her own judgement that had been a bit confused to say the least. “I guess the rose might enjoy tha’, yes. An they also can look out for each other with their thorns. If one tries te pick the one, the other stings.”

Every muscle tense, she walked next to Courf through the nightly streets of Paris. She had done this before, she knew how to not attract any attention, and she had to say Courf was doing a great job at it as well. He would have been a good gamin… Like she had predicted, the pain in her ankle died down with every careful step she took, and far too soon they reached that one corner. She turned to him as well, a little unsure now how to part. Looking up at him, she nodded. “Will do. Ye be safe as well… and Courf?” she hesitated, but then took his hand. “I wish ye strength. Tonight was a setback, and ye all will need sum time te get te terms wi’ it. It’ll all jus’ get harder now. Jus’… stay true te yerself.”

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Courfeyrac replied with a firm nod, heartened by Mylene's declaration, “We will see them unite!” He had to believe this, or their revolution would be hopeless. But even if it was, then still they would die with purpose; they would sell their lives dearly. And they would bring attention to an issue that no one refused to address. Perhaps they would just be more people dying on the streets, but they would fight back, and fight back with vehemence! The goal was not to bring down as many members of the National Guard as possible, at least not in theory, but he had not yet experienced the desperation of the last moments of life in which everything became a weapon and every enemy became an animal. It was easy to say now that the goal was to stop violence, not perpetuate more of it, but what would happen would be decided by the National Guard's reaction to their coming barricade. The goal, Courfeyrac believed, was to bring attention to themselves, just like the red flag they waved so proudly. They would make their voice heard – the voice of the people – because they existed and they deserved it. They spoke for those who could or would not.

It was true, Courfeyrac supposed, that the lusty infatuation of youth did not often last. However, he was not certain that his life would last long either. He could not guarantee lifelong loyalty to a woman, because he could not guarantee himself long life. His loyalty was most fervent though to Patria. And he would prove himself good to Mylene in all the ways he could for the time being. He chuckled in satisfaction at her last comment, and added, “Ah'm glad to 'ear it.”

He was also glad to think that she might be saying the rose would enjoy being protected and in a group. That was the way all of the Amis were, but he referred to her as well. “Not too thorny, am Ah?” he joked lightly, contented with her answer.

There was to be no joking during their walk, and it was made swiftly; apparently her ankle no longer gave her trouble. As the paused to part ways, he glanced at her hand when she put it in his, then back up to her face. “Ah know,” he murmured. “An' Ah will.” His eyes thanked her silently for her words of encouragement, and he cupped her face to give her a firm, quick kiss before pulling back to hurry away.