[For Combeferre]

[abaisse_chef]

Enjolras frequently spent time in the shade and relative quiet of the Hub during the day. It was a less central location than the rec room and therefore afforded more peace and solitude, though even there it was never complete

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[butcivilization]

Enjolras wasn't the only one to find the Hub a surprisingly good place to read or study when bathed in daylight. Combeferre is somewhat less a man of routine than his friend and has found more than one such place of solace - the orchard outside the Compound, the kitchen later at night when most were abed, and recently the hut he and Thomasina now shared. But the Hub was one such place, and that was where he went with books in hand this afternoon.

"Enjolras," he greeted his friend with a smile and set texts, notebooks, and the slim computer on the bar. "I thought you might be. You look busy."

[abaisse_chef]

Enjolras looked up and gave his friend a brief, faint smile of greeting as he nodded. "No more than any other day," he answered with a small sigh, ignoring the pang of longing that even now he felt each time he looked at his dearest friend. It grew easier to ignore every day--provided he kept his thoughts as far from mademoiselle Thomasina as possible.

[butcivilization]

"And is the topic the same as any other day?" Combeferre asked with a hint of cheerful irony and a tilt of his head. Elections were nigh, and even if they had not been, Enjolras was Enjolras. It was no stretch to wager that he had politics on the mind.

[abaisse_chef]

"Bien sûr," Enjolras murmured, turning his attention back to the paper in his hands. "I am--searching for inspiration, I suppose." His expression grew somewhat frustrated and he added darkly, "I wish I could write my speeches in French." Oh, he was fluent in English, but it just wasn't the same. There were words in French that had no proper translation, after all. Some of the words' power was lost in the act of translating.