granxaire:

                   M A Y B E, Enjolras should take the drunken
                   ramblings Grantaire frequently spouted with a
                   few less grains of salt and he’d have his reason,
                   now wouldn’t he? It wasn’t as though Grantaire
                                                made an effort to conceal his
                                                opinions on anything, whether
                                                it be the Cause, the weather,  
                                                or the leader in red himself.

            Grantaire just continues to watch him
            like a cat with the cream. “Uhuh.” And
            well, it was early, but the time of day
            had never really been an issue for this
            lot ( a fact that Grantaire had bemoaned
                     endlessly when he first joined them ).

So they were going to get him either in transit or
the moment he touched Parisian soil. That wasn’t
going to make their get away awful or anything, no.
Grantaire much rather take out a building to get at
a mark then risk a goddamn street chase for one,
but that wasn’t his call, was it?

                                    He waved his hand right back and settled into
                                    the cushions, honestly not giving a damn about
                                    the fact he was going to be covered in fucking glitter.

                                    “And when have you ever listened to my ideas?”
                                    he asked. “No, no. You don’t ask a gun for its input.”

:: { ℑ⋅ℇ } ─ ─ ─ ::

                   Maybe. But he doesn’t have
                the time– no matter how many
                pitying looks get sent his way
                when he isn’t looking. There is 
                no victim here– he told himself
                at the start, didn’t he? It’s just
                Mutually Assured Destruction.

                  Enjolras is telling the truth, yet
               the look Grantaire fixes on him is
               one of disbelief with a mix of just
               that little bit of exasperation and 
               it’s so familiar he huffs in defense.

                   ”Focus. ETA is less than twenty
                hours. We need to start setting up.“

                    His cup is all but forgotten as 
                he pulls the laptop towards him,
                not quite ignoring Grantaire’s bout
                of self-deprecation but not quite
                engaging either. He does spare a
                raised eyebrow, another challenge
                quietly issued as though to say,
                ‘I NEVER ask and you offer them
                 anyway.’ Why not this time?

                     ”His plane lands at Toussus-
                le-Noble just past midnight. No
                others, it’ll be a skeleton crew at
                most. Minimal chance for collateral,
                fastest egress time. Unless you
                d i s a g r e e.“ He’s not mocking,
                not really, it’s a challenge.