That laughing roar resounds off the grimy walls, echoing, half bull's bellow, half words ripped from a man's throat, all bitterness, even the sound trapped.

"You think," says Enjolras into the fading echoes, his voice level. "You speak, you are a rational creature. Yes. Whether or not we're friends, yes, I call you brother."

Enjolras has killed his brothers before; in the end, he was killed by them as well. The fact remains.

The Minotaur doesn't seem to know what to do with that statement. He laughs again, low and bitter, but there's an uncertain quaver in it, and it peters out too soon into silence.