» ᴘᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜr ʜᴀɴᴅs iɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀir, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ sᴏᴜɴᴅ

[habitually]

» but don't get the wrong idea, [ i'm ] gonna shoot you—

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[seditiously]

[ Oh okay, so this man is just outright deranged. Enjolras takes a step back out of reflex (he's not scared, he doesn't do scared thank you very much) and feels Courfeyrac braces his back. He doesn't dare tear his eyes from the irate shorter man but he can only imagine his and Combeferre's faces; they're perfectly used to the belligerent, and even the dangerously irate, who think Enjolras somehow represents the problem rather than just being the voice of those social ills. Not always being the best of friends with law enforcement, they've learned to deal with in their way, but the back alley is narrower than what would be ideal, and not many of their group were tracking the exact route.

Combeferre, the voice of reason, tries to nudges Enjolras back wordlessly behind them again, trying to get a barrier between their orator and this stranger warning of violence. Unfortunately for Combeferre, he is friends with what is quite possibly the most stubborn, hot-headed idiot in Paris. ]

Look, I don't know who you think you are but if you think I'm going to be scared off by your ridiculous intimidation efforts, you're absolutely insane. Do you know how many death threats I get on a weekly basis? I'm not going to stop fighting just because some asshole wants to hurt me. I don't give a shit about martyrdom or whatever you're going on about, I'm just after what's right.

[ With that, he finally acquiesces to Combeferre's urgent tugs, brazenly turning his back to the stranger. ]

[habitually]

Please.

[ R doesn't make to follow him, but raises his voice and winces immediately. Who knows what's listening or watching to ensure delivery- He snorts from his nostrils takes urgent strides to tail them, grabbing Enjolras' arm. ]

I'm not scaring you, but I should be. I don't care that you're important; I don't care what's right, or how many people "want" to kill you. [ A deep shaking breath and Grantaire lowers his voice again and squeezes his arm tighter and grits his teeth. ]

I was sent to kill you, you pompous, self-important piece of shit. And I'm here by choice, not because I couldn't have done it.

[seditiously]

[ The look Enjolras gives him is a comical mix between outrage and confusion. ]

...You're insane. You're literally insane. Who even says that?

[ Combeferre and Courfeyrac, on the other hand, have far less difficulty processing what the stranger has owned to. Combeferre's insistent tug is far less gentle now, practically yanking Enjolras behind him with a short surprised, yelp from the man in question; Courfeyrac busies himself with snapping a photo of the man both as a precaution for any potential police report and for circulation amongst their group.

"I think we're done here." Combeferre says curtly, not wanting to rile the man up any further (or Enjolras for that matter, who stills looks ready to punch the nose of the tiger who's threatened to eat him.) ]