Enjolras has no idea what in specific he's reacting to. Presumably not the weird abstract painting of some kind of flower, so maybe the general redness and Romanticness of the room?
(Yeah Enjolras is quite genuinely blithely oblivious to all subtext in Georgia O'Keeffe paintings.)
Anyway, he doesn't in the least care what Javert is appalled or scandalized by. He smiles faintly at Bahorel and Prouvaire, instead, and goes to sit on the couch.
He has no desire to sit next to the spy. But the other options are worse: he doesn't want to sprawl on the floor next to the spy either, even if he were a sprawling sort of person, and sitting in a solitary chair is childish pettiness -- pettiness that will only earn equally petty retaliation, besides. So the couch it is.
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Date: 2016-02-15 03:09 am (UTC)From:(Yeah Enjolras is quite genuinely blithely oblivious to all subtext in Georgia O'Keeffe paintings.)
Anyway, he doesn't in the least care what Javert is appalled or scandalized by. He smiles faintly at Bahorel and Prouvaire, instead, and goes to sit on the couch.
He has no desire to sit next to the spy. But the other options are worse: he doesn't want to sprawl on the floor next to the spy either, even if he were a sprawling sort of person, and sitting in a solitary chair is childish pettiness -- pettiness that will only earn equally petty retaliation, besides. So the couch it is.