urchinisms:

     Courfeyrac wasn’t around, so curiosity could really
     take the boy. He’d been around these meetings so
     many times, seen fights, and conversations that
     Gavroche himself had gotten involved with, but he
     never really understood why they were fighting what
     they were fighting for. 

❝Well, Enjy. She’d say m’big enough. Can handle
  a little bit of sugar. Plus, m’thirsty. S’not like m’askin’
  f’you to gimme money. Although, there’s a nice scarf
  in town I wouldn’t mind. ❝

                               Typical Gavroche, make a joke out of anything.

     ”And Courf printed off math sheets, and I can’t
      concentrate without a drink.”

:: { ℑ⋅ℇ } ─ ─ ─ ::

                                                     A moment of silence.

                “That’s a horrible nickname,
              who told you to use it? No, don’t
               tell me. Just don’t repeat them.”

                    Probably Courfeyrac too– he’s the source
                   of sixty-five percent of Enjolras’ headaches
                   but Enjolras isn’t truly mad, not at Gavroche.
                   He spares his laptop another glance but–
                   well, those emails don’t actually need to be
                   sent out tonight. He closes it. Spares a smile.

               "Go get your math sheets, you can
             sit with me. Want anything else?“

                    That’s not a scarf. You can’t eat a scarf and
                   Enjolras is feeling the pangs of a missed meal.