"Hello?" Bossuet called, knocking on the door with one hand and clutching the squirming white kitten with the other. He wasn't sure if Combeferre would like Nerium in his apartment, but if he didn't then it was a short enough walk back to his flat to drop the kit off. Over the past, hellish week, the little thing had grown terribly edgy and clingy, and Bossuet felt horribly guilty for leaving him alone too long. Even though he was a very poor substitute for Grantaire.

In all honesty, the silent waiting was getting to him, too. Lesgles dearly hoped that they would have a concrete plan in the morning. Until then, this would be a good night to get nicely drunk.