Enjolras is aware that Prouvaire finds thoughts of death -- metaphorical or otherwise -- dreamily compelling, in the abstract.
All the same, his hand tightens on Prouvaire's shoulder when he speaks of losing his phoenix's form as another kind of death. "As do I," he says softly.
But Combeferre's question is a lighter one; he can glance at him, and smile faintly, and shrug his shoulders.
"Very strange. I'm sure you'll find more education in it than I did, my friend. But it wasn't bad."
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All the same, his hand tightens on Prouvaire's shoulder when he speaks of losing his phoenix's form as another kind of death. "As do I," he says softly.
But Combeferre's question is a lighter one; he can glance at him, and smile faintly, and shrug his shoulders.
"Very strange. I'm sure you'll find more education in it than I did, my friend. But it wasn't bad."