[Enjolras presses his lips together, his blue eyes fixed on the floor. His lips part as though preparing to speak, then stops again. His brow knits, as the words not coming when he needs them is not something he is used to.]

It seems I have no choice. I owe you at least that.

It feels like such a small thing now. I hate death, but I had to make use of it. Now we both felt it, and here we are.

I would have thought that there was nothing more to say, and yet I find myself in this place, no different than I was before.

I did not expect that.

I did not expect a lot of things.