For his part, Enjolras still had no intention of killing anyone. While he greatly admired Greek and Roman societies with their republics and their openness toward new ideas and philosophies, he would've been happier never seeing their sports recreated for any reason. The idea that they would be used to distribute something as basic as food was terrible, offensive to his republican heart which strove for fairness and equality above all else. He would refuse to play into their game for as long as possible, and then, he supposed, he would die eventually in the name of not killing another. Not quite as noble as dying for his beloved France, but there were worse ways to go, in the grand scheme of things.

"I have. I have little interest in what they have to say." Knowledge he could get behind, discovering the world around him seemed wise, being coddled dotted upon until such time as he was needed to entertain a crowd of sick spectators, Enjolras did not appreciate. "Will you fight when the time comes?"