It's at this point that Enjolras emerges, hair wet and haphazardly finger-combed into place. Unlike Bahorel -- who's wearing a garment which is probably a kind of sarong, but which looks to Enjolras's tolerantly bemused and ethnocentric eyes as if he stole somebody's curtain to wrap himself in -- Enjolras has opted for a borrowed shirt and actual clothing, even if he's leaving off his coat for now.

He's overheard the end of this conversation, but it's Bahorel's last sentence he's in the room for, and of course it makes him smile.