[ It’s very early morning and the sun has only just begun to rise when Grantaire finally winds his way back home to Wyver. He and Enjolras both keep odd hours. In fact, sometimes it seems that Enjolras may not sleep at all, but Grantaire somehow expects the other man to have found some sleep within the silence. He certainly didn’t expect to find him awake and pacing, looking almost worried.

Certainly not worried. ]

Ah, golden Apollo. Awake with the sun.

[ A fond smile tugs at the corners of his lips, but it’s tense. His thoughts are still covered in a haze of wine, but one thought does stand out extraordinarily clearly: Enjolras will be disappointed. Maybe if he just keeps talking, Enjolras won’t notice…? That’s never worked before, but maybe it’s worth a go. ]

I have seen Olympia. I have walked its streets. Both cities are very fine in their own ways and I have decided—

[ He very nearly stumbles despite standing still. ]

That there is little difference between Wyver wine and Olympia wine.